Vulnerability
by AnyaClover
Summary: Dante had once said 'Beauty awakens the soul to act'. Hannibal truly felt the weight to those words when he'd laid eyes on Charlotte Claude. Baltimore's favourite Opera darling and more importantly: Will Graham's girlfriend.
1. Chapter 1

_This Fan fiction starts at the beginning of Episode 7(Sorbet): Season 1 of NBC's Hannibal._

_Obviously and almost without saying none of the content is mine and belongs to both NBC's Hannibal and of course the fantastically talented Thomas Harris._

_It's mostly introductory and perhaps I will write more if people seem interested. Thank you kindly for reading!_

**Chapter one**

The Opera was one of the small things in life that brought Hannibal true peace. He was just a suit in a sea of well dressed men and women until the aria ended. Desperately unassuming. Making him equal parts dangerous and innocuous.

The singer that night had brought him to tears. Her voice was truly pure. She had cleansed his heavy heart with her ethereal rendition of Handel's Piangero la sorte mia.

So when Franklin interrupted with his rude friend Hannibal found his temper fray ever so slightly. Of course he hid it. He charmed his way with Franklin. He never once lost Mrs. Komeda's adulation. She was a women he found almost funny but she served a higher purpose. She kept him popular and important in her influential group of friends. She knew no one that wasn't either of note, highly educated, affluent, or beautiful. Hannibal noticed those characteristics usually overlapped as they did with himself. He was practically all of those things. Mrs. Komeda smiled politely as Hannibal did his best not to humiliate Franklin. Good God Franklin didn't make that easy. Neither did his ridiculous stand offish friend.

"You must leave something for us to discuss next time-" Hannibal begun in another futile attempt to lighten the tone Tobias had set but Mrs. Komeda unwittingly interrupted.

"Charlotte! Darling come here!" she demanded loudly in her trademark tone that sounded somewhere between endearment and scolding.

The young woman turned around swiftly. Her black dress swept around her and she smiled sweetly at Mrs. Komeda. Mrs. Komeda enveloped the young woman in her arms and air kissed her with great exaggeration.

"You," Mrs. Komeda begun with a coy smile. "You. There's nothing more to say is there. What is more to say?"

"Nothing apparently," Hannibal said and the girl glanced up with a smile.

"Hannibal i want you to meet miss Charlotte Claude," Mrs. Komeda said with a proud grasp of the girls hand. "Charlotte meet Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

She dipped her head to Hannibal and smiled at him. He returned the gesture.

He had recognised her immediately. Feline beauty with petite frame. The little Opera beauty he'd listened to less than half an hour earlier.

A great treasure hidden in a banal wrapper. He listened to her chatter with Mrs. Komeda and laugh at the woman's joke. Just another dull young thing with a beautiful voice. She wasn't special. She just had an ability that was rare and he supposed quietly to himself she was worth that at least.

Hannibal drank her in. Soft. Like swirling smoke. Her big brown eyes and soft curling brunette hair. Brown on brown yet anything but plain.

Natural beauty was a strong hand for her and he thought quietly if she was aware of that or not. She could move well in her own body. She moved fluidly and her soft skin illuminated against the black silk of her gown. That was a rare feat for young woman as usually he saw them unsure how their arms and legs were to move at the same time. Tottering in heels and thick makeup. She was chic he would give her that.

He caught her scent and studied it lightly.

Gentle dabs of perfume. Tom ford… Velvet Orchid. Interesting enough. Very expensive. Probably a gift.

He would have picked something french for her but he supposed he couldn't be correct all the time.

The scent almost lost interest to him till suddenly he caught an undertone. It smelt like open fields, cozy fires, babbling brooks, and… what was it?

Was it dog hair?

He unseeingly pressed his finger nails to his palm.

_Will Graham_.

Undeniable and indelible there was the scent mingled into her expensive perfume of his favourite FBI special agent.

"Your singing tonight was just amazing," Franklin interrupted.

Hannibal glanced up as he was jolted from his flowing thoughts, theories, and curiosities.

"Thank you," she said. A European accent licked her lilt and Hannibal's curiosity widened.

French. How would mall of America _Will_ know somebody _French_?

"You're french?" Franklin asked brashly.

She gave an unsure smile. She nodded and Franklin beamed idiotically at her.

"Well bonjour welcome to America," he said and she blinked slightly.

"Um… Bonsoir… thank you that's very kind," she said with the same unsure smile.

Hannibal nodded and took the tone to excuse Franklin. He shook his hand and Tobias stalked away with Franklin like a lost puppy chasing behind.

"Who's hungry?" Hannibal asked.

Everyone laughed except Charlotte who merely smiled politely. Hannibal adored when people missed his subtle hints at his sins.

"Oh Charlotte Hannibal is just the most incredible chef," Mrs. Komeda informed and Charlotte nodded.

"Not to seem unoriginal but you were truly transcendent in your performance," Hannibal said and the girl blushed pink.

"She's still so shy!" Mrs. Komeda teased softly. "I found her in New York Hannibal and i said we have to have you because opera is dead in New York don't you know? It is Hannibal I swear! She is wasting her time! She should be here in our arms! She is going to be the biggest star Maryland has ever had."

"Please-"

"No!" Mrs. Komeda interrupted. "I know what your going to say! 'Oh Jillian stop just stop you're too kind!'; well my kindness is not so easily earned- anybody here will tell you that. You're fantastic and you earned your praise. There's a reason you're my favourite."

Hannibal raised a brow and Mrs. Komeda pouted at him with a narrow glare. "If you had a dinner party you'd be favourite again but you've lost it to this beautiful young woman," Mrs. Komeda said with mock nastiness.

"Well," hannibal said with usual soft charm. "I couldn't image a more deserving recipient of Jillian's favouritism Miss Claude."

She blushed once more. A voice interrupted her and she glanced sideward to an older man who looked very important who was beckoning her.

"I should attend to this," Charlotte murmured. "Doctor Lecter it was a pleasure to meet you."

Hannibal took her hand and kissed it and she blushed sweetly once more.

"Come see me before you leave. Promise me my little french flower," Mrs. Komeda cooed and kissed the girl on the cheek.

"Of course. I promise," Charlotte said and wondered to see the older man.

Hannibal didn't really listen for the rest of the evening. He simply keenly watched Charlotte Claude till he gauged she was leaving and he excused himself.

He swiftly rushed from the room to the valet and waited for his car.

He heard her heels clip on the grand stone stairs behind him and smirked quietly to himself.

"No i understand," her voice flowed softly. "No…. No… i do know!"

Hannibal glanced back to see charlotte frowning as an anonymous voice apologised profusely down the phone to her. He couldn't help but hope that it was Will.

"Of _course_," she said with a long exhale. "I know it's _work_. I'll catch a taxi to the apartment."

She begun to walk down the stairs, nodding and sighing as she went.

"Well i love you too," she said tiredly. "I know. Goodnight _mon cherie_."

She hung up and sighed softly.

"Hello," hannibal called. She jumped and glanced down the staircase to him.

"Oh hello Doctor Lecter," she said. "Are you waiting for your car?"

"Yes i am," he said with a smile. "May i be so bold to enquire how you intend to get home tonight?"

"Ah…" she sighed. "A taxi. I am afraid my boyfriend is not so reliable."

Hannibal waited and she shrugged.

"He's at work," she said with a weak smile.

"Do you have a phone number for a taxi service?" he asked.

"Yes i do," she said.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Cross Street, Baltimore," she said while stifling a small yawn.

"I live on Robin Avenue," he said with a smile. "That's two blocks from my home. Miss Claude would you like me to drive you home?"

She blinked a few times. "I would be imposing…"

The roar of his Bentley met her ears and she glanced up.

Her brows raised and she hesitated.

"It's a very nice car," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't offer to drive you if i weren't sincere," Hannibal said. "It would be rude to refuse."

She hesitated but agreed and followed him to his beautiful car. She slid in to the passenger seat and stretched on the soft leather.

"This is a nice car," she murmured softly to herself. "This is amazing."

Hannibal smirked once more.

She smiled up at him and bit her lip.

"Thank you Doctor Lecter," she said and he smiled at her.

"Pleasure Miss Claude. Any friend of Jillian's is a friend of mine."

The car rolled forward and she settled deeper into the seat.

"Is your boyfriend usually this unreliable?" Hannibal asked in a leading manner and she sighed.

"It is work," she murmured. "He's important I suppose."

"What does he do?"

"He's a teacher," she said with a small proud smile. "But he is _also_ special consultant for the FBI on occasion. He's very talented at this kind of thing."

Hannibal paused. It was Will. He couldn't have been given a more perfect opportunity to get close to Will if he'd tried. He'd simply ask her.

"Is your boyfriends name Will Graham?" Hannibal asked.

She glanced up and blinked. The realisation rushed her eyes and she pressed her hand to forehead.

"You're Doctor Hannibal Lecter," she said with a long sigh. "Oh how could i…. Will's told me _all_ about you!"

"I doubt it's been particularly flattering," he chuckled.

"It's more than _anything_ he's said about me to you," she said with a knowing jutted brow.

Hannibal nodded and she smiled softly.

"He's a private person," Hannibal agreed. "How long have you been seeing one another romantically?"

"Two years or so," she murmured. "We dated very soon after i arrived from New York. He's very complimentary about you. He says you're one of the only psychiatrists he has ever met that doesn't have designs on him."

"Will's mental conditions hold no lustre to me," Hannibal agreed. A lie. He was fascinated. "He is simply a very engaging man."

"Thank you," she said and hannibal glanced at her.

"For what miss Claude?"

"For seeing him," she said. "And his pains and struggles as well as his strengths. I do think you could really help him."

"Do you find him difficult?" Hannibal asked and she shook her head.

"No i just worry," she said softly. "Especially about Jack's… attitudes to Will. I don't want Will to break."

Hannibal nodded as they rolled down her street.

"It's this one.. on the left… number 11," she gestured at a quartered turn of the century building. Pre war. Beautiful.

"Fantastic taste," hannibal commented and she chuckled lightly.

"Hardly i am afraid this is further kindness of Mrs. Komeda," Charlotte admitted. "It's her husbands property. I spend most my time in Wolf Trap."

"Maybe we can drive up together in future," Hannibal suggested casually. She smiled sweetly and nodded.

She continued to smile as he exited the car and opened the passenger door. She took his hand and he walked her to the doorway of her home.

"You're a perfect gentleman," she said a glitter crossing her gaze. That lovely accent caressing her words.

Hannibal smiled and dipped his head. "I'm just making sure you get home safe. Baltimore hasn't been the safest place of late."

"Ah... the Chesapeake ripper," she hummed. "Jack and his white whale no?"

Hannibal smiled as she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Honestly Doctor Lecter you'd think the way Jack speaks about the ripper that he thinks he's made of smoke and devil's dust," she tutted and Hannibal chuckled.

He reached in to his pocket and removed a business card.

"If you need anything miss Claude," Hannibal said. "Don't hesitate to see me either at work or call the number provided."

She took it and wrapped it tightly in her hand.

"Of course," she said softly. "Of course Doctor Lecter I will I promise."

Hannibal sat in his car and watched the yellow illumination of her lights stream through her curtains.

Hannibal had just found Will's weakest point.

And luckily she'd come in a pretty french package.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to anyone who's taken the time to read my story. I appreciate it greatly. Of course even more so to anyone who took the time to review that is fantastically kind of you. This chapter is a continue of introductions. Notedly the relationship between Charlotte and Will. I promise some action will come soon but till then i hope you enjoy. _

**Chapter Two.**

Will unlocked the front door to her apartment and followed the sound of her singing from the shower. She did have a beautiful voice. Will didn't understand opera but he understood that voice. He placed his bag down and glanced about her small home. It was cozy. Anywhere Charlotte went she made cozy. That was a strength that she didn't even realise she had.

He was going to surprise her and he hoped she'd be happy to see him. He felt so bad about last night. He'd canceled one too many times of late. It bothered him how blithe she'd become about how unreliable he was.

"Charlotte!" he called out as he took his coat off.

"William?"

She was the only person who called him that. He wasn't even sure William was written on his birth certificate. He liked the way she said it. '_Will-eh-um_'. That lovely accent of her's caressing the word.

"Yeah!" he called. "I thought we could have breakfast. Where are you?"

"Shower!" she called. "Come in! Sit on the edge of the bath _mon coeur_!"

He obliged her. "My heart?" he called as he slipped his shoes off before taking wet footsteps across the bathroom floor.

"Are you learning Will?" she asked with a small giggle.

"No," He said. Two years should've been long enough for him to learn _some_ French but he hadn't. Not because he didn't want too. It was because he felt as though French was her safety. She would speak on the phone in front of him in French. She talked in her sleep in French. She murmured French when they made love. It was like a cocoon of language that kept her gentle and kept her safe. He wasn't going to intrude

"So early Will!" she called from the shower. He glanced up from his thoughts. Will sat on the edge of the bathtub and nodded with a sigh. He couldn't see all of her in the shower. Just flashes of cream and peach skin. He watched her and smiled. She was very graceful. That was the first thing he'd ever noticed about her. Will watched her as she hummed to herself in the shower.

"Did you at least sleep?" she enquired gently.

"No-"

"_Will_!' she whined. "Will you are _killing_ me!"

He chuckled at how dramatic she sounded. Charlotte darted her head from behind the shower curtain and narrowed her gaze. He smiled softly at her.

"I worry," she said with a pout and he gave her that cocked smile that made her heart melt.

"Worry about washing your hair," he told her. She playfully rolled her eyes but obliged by darting back under the hot water.

He heard her hesitate on her next question. He knew what it would be before she'd even spoken.

"Was your crime scene awful?" she called. He heard her trying to carry the words with confidence but she faltered.

Will stood and stretched. Rubbing his hands over his face he hesitated to tell her. She worried so much. It was causing tension. He felt the relationship become taught whenever they spoke of it. He felt her heartbreaking for him.

"If you do not tell me," she warned. "I will read about it on tattler-"

"Charlotte you shouldn't read it," Will interrupted. "It's trash. Have some respect for yourself."

She giggled lightly and wiggled beneath the cascading water once more.

"It was awful," Will finally answered. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "They think it's the ripper-"

"Jack _always_ thinks it's the ripper."

"Well this one isn't," Will said firmly. "It's not the same drive. It lacks cruelness. It's somebody trying to make a cheap dollar and that's it."

"A dollar?" she asked in confusion.

"Sometimes people sell organs," Will informed her. "It's lucrative. Relatively easy. If a person has even the slightest anatomical knowledge they'll be able to do it."

"Disgusting," she replied with a grimace and he nodded.

"Disgusting but not field kabuki," Will muttered. "This killer goes to pain stacking effort for his victims to survive. The ripper is desperate to show the world that he's smarter than it."

"Well so far he has been," Charlotte hummed and Will shrugged.

"I know," he said. "Just don't say that in front of Jack."

She laughed once more and turned off the water. Will stepped forward and handed her a towel. He caught a quick glance of her peaches and cream skin before the fluffy white towel enveloped her.

She smiled lovingly and kissed him softly. His hand rested on her back. She tried to kiss him deeper but he resisted. Charlotte pulled away, glanced up, and tried to hide her disappointment. She wrapped him close to her and sighed.

"I'm tired," he said quietly.

"I know," she soothed as her hand stroked down his hair.

Intimacy since Jack had begun using him had weakened. Charlotte saw it in Will's eyes. His imagination was so enwrapped in horrors and evil that he couldn't possibly imagine anything else. Yes of course she missed him. _She missed it_. She missed the way his lips pressed to her neck. The way his stubble tickled. The fluttering gasps he would illicit till finally she would abandon her English and moan softly in French.

Charlotte missed it but Will's well-being was more important to her than anything else.

It was on this thought of well-being that she was pleasantly reminded of her new acquaintance.

"Oh!" she said with a soft smile. "Oh! Will I met Doctor Lecter last night!"

He pulled away from her hug and blinked at her a few time.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter?" he asked with confusion.

"Yes except i couldn't remember where i had heard the name. He was driving me home before I realised that it was of course your Hannibal!'

"He drove you home?" Will asked perplexedly.

She let the question hang in the air between them till Will blushed slightly. "Right…" he said. "Of course. I'll remember to thank him on Wednesday."

She kissed his cheek and wiggled away from him to dry her hair.

He followed her to her bedroom and watch her quickly and skilfully change in to casual and comfortable Sunday clothes.

They spoke over the roar of her hairdryer.

"You know he's just lovely," Charlotte called.

"I think he speaks French," Will replied from across the room. His fingers traced across the small figurines that Julian Komeda had left in the apartment. The whole thing was decorated with some sort of ridiculous luxuriousness that Will didn't understand. Charlotte however seemed comfortable here and that was all that mattered.

"He seems to be a man of many talents," Charlotte replied as she begun to brush her dried hair. "I said thank you for how fantastic he's been with helping you."

"You didn't need to," Will said. "It's his job."

She frowned and glanced up at him. "I was being polite," she scolded softly. "And more to the point William he has been _very_ helpful."

Will shrugged and continued to walk around the room as she pulled her boots on.

"Are we going somewhere?"

She glanced up and nodded. "There's no food here. Maybe we can go to that diner around the corner?"

Will shrugged and she playfully rolled her eyes once more.

"Indulge me," she crooned softly as she wrapped her hand in his.

Will sighed and agreed, pulling his boots and coat on, before followed her form her small home.

"How did you even find this Doctor?" Charlotte asked as they set off down the street.

"Um… I didn't. Jack did. He was Alana Bloom's supervisor at John Hopkins," Will said. He felt Charlotte bristle and Will tried to tuck his smile away.

Charlotte was jealous of Alana. She had never said it aloud but Will could feel it whenever Alana was mentioned. The jealous bristle. The stiffness in her spine. The way her jaw tightened.

Will found it hilarious and endearing. The fact his beautiful French girlfriend found time to be jealous over him; a stray-dog-collecting, farm-dwelling, neurosis-riddled teacher. It was flattering.

"Would you rather Alana be my psychiatrist?" he asked and Charlotte turned a unfriendly gaze to him.

"Don't be coarse," she warned. Will chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

When they arrived she chose to sit beside him in the booth at the diner. Will took her choice to sit so close as a silent victory. They'd ordered the menu item that simply said 'breakfast' and settled in to their respective feasts of eggs, toasts, and sausages.

"I really liked Hannibal," Charlotte mentioned as she stole half a sausage from Will's plate. He feigned irritability but allowed her to take his food.

"Well at least you'll find some comfort from that," Will said and she nodded with a small shrug.

"Your comfort is more important," she said sincerely. Will smiled and wrapped an arm around her. Will kissed the top of her head. She cuddled very close. She fit perfectly beside him.

It felt nice. Will had noticed to his dismay that they'd been fighting with more more regularly as his weeks under Jack's supervision continued. Charlotte hated Jack with a burning rage Will wouldn't have ever guessed possible of her. She was usually so painfully polite. Kind and gentle.

When Will had come home covered in the blood of the entire Hobbs family everything changed. She'd begged Will to let her call Jack but he'd refused. More trouble wouldn't help. She'd been forced instead to stay calm and comfort will. She held him in her arms and told him how she'd use _'every single one of my living breaths_' to _'protect the love of my life'_ against Jack's _'insane witch hunt'_.

Will had stayed silent and she'd held on to him so tightly that night in bed it were as though she feared he'd slip away.

At least she liked Hannibal. She might be slightly more forgiving of Will joining the FBI as a profiler. His work scared scared Charlotte. Will could see it in her eyes when he spoke about it. He never went in to detail. Just enough so she wouldn't google it and get upset. They'd had screaming matches. She would usually be somewhere between rage-filled and sobbing. He'd close down and grow tired of the same argument.

It broke up into the same points always. She was worried; he'd tell her not to worry. She didn't like how jack treated him; he said it didn't matter because he was saving lives. She'd ask in a tearful voice '_what of your life_?'; he would withdraw and tell her he was tired.

So the close intimacy of simply eating breakfast together in peace was not overlooked by Will.

He could see that she loved him more than life it's self.

Will however knew that her love was no match for the insidiousness of his work. It would catch up to her sooner or later. Like swarming crawling insects it would cover her and him. It would eat her alive and she'd be left with nothing.

It was best he kept at her arms length. Even if it was just for now.


	3. Chapter 3

_Be aware there is some violence in this chapter and if that's not your cup of tea feel free to skip it._

_Once again thank you for anyone who takes the time to read and an even bigger thanks to anyone who takes the time to review. Enjoy!_

**Chapter Three.**

Charlotte hesitated on the pathway in front of Hannibal Lecter's office. She wasn't sure why she'd gone there. After all they had only spoken once but in saying that he _had_ said to come see him whenever. She didn't wish him to divulge anything sensitive. She didn't wish him to break his code of ethics but she had to know why Will had done it.

_Why_ _had_ _Will kissed Alana Bloom?_

Will had told her that morning while she was brushing her teeth. He told her about the racoon in the chimney. He told her how he wasn't even sure it had been a racoon and that he'd simply kissed Alana because he was afraid. He swore he didn't mean anything by it. Alana was a friend that he cared for but the kiss had been nothing more than a knee jerk reaction to stress.

Charlotte hadn't cried. She hadn't yelled. She hadn't reacted at all. Will seemed poised and ready for every eventuality except for that one.

"Are you angry?" he'd asked quietly. She'd said nothing and instead begun to fix her hair. "It meant nothing. I was panicked. I'm sorry."

She'd still said nothing.

It was of course only a kiss. She'd kissed people in Operas but that was different. They weren't close friends. Those kisses had been in front of thousand strong audiences and not in the warm intimacy of her home. Will had kissed the _one_ person Charlotte wished it hadn't been.

She bottled all of this. Charlotte continued to stay blank faced till she had kissed Will's cheek and told him to go to work. He needed to go find some _other_ killer.

_Another_ thing tearing them apart.

"I really love you," Will had said in a painfully quiet voice. She'd glanced up and nodded.

When he left she sat down on the end of her bed and stared blankly at the white wall. She'd only stayed in the city for five days. Five days and he'd decided to go to Alana? To kiss Alana? Did everything she put in to their relationship mean _nothing_ to him?

She flinched at the idea that perhaps she'd always been a second best prize to the gorgeous psychiatrist. Alana was more confident than Charlotte. Held a higher education. She would challenge Will and understand him better than Charlotte ever could. Charlotte felt hollow. Maybe Alana would be better for Will now that he was Jack's right hand man.

Will wasn't just a teacher anymore. He wasn't just the man she loved. He was saving lives and maybe that meant he didn't have time for their life anymore.

She hadn't reacted in front of Will because he was empathetic. He would have felt her pain. Understood her pain. Unintentionally manipulated her. She needed to see a third party.

She needed to see Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

So that is how she'd found herself in front of Hannibal Lecter's office. His card crushed in her hand.

She hesitated.

Things were so tense between her and Will of late. The crimes had come too close for comfort. She'd known that trombonist and Will had pushed her away for it. She tried desperately to think of reasons to not go inside Hannibal's office. However her desperation was winning.

She needed to know if Will had told Hannibal anything.

She needed to know if she should hang on.

She needed to know-

"Oh!' she said with a stumble as a man shoved past her. "Excuse me!"

He ignored her as he strode purposefully towards the building and barged in. She vaguely recognised him from when she'd met Doctor Lecter. She watched him disappear in to the office.

He didn't bother to close the front door behind him.

Strange.

Her worry about Will diluted for a moment as her mind made room for considerations of why the stranger hadn't closed the door. She waited for a moment longer but decided she should at least check if everything was ok. She walked up the stone steps slowly and paused in the open door way. She could hear muffled voices. Distressed. She ventured further till she was slowly creeping across the waiting room. Her thoughts of Will were all but forgotten as her curiosity consumed her.

She hesitated for a moment longer till she heard a large and sudden thud fill the next room.

Soon after she heard a scramble. She stilled. Her hand rested on the door knob.

Curiosity won. She opened it and took a step forward.

She immediately recognised the man collapsed on the floor. His eyes opened and his limbs at awkward angles. She felt a fission of fear run up her spine as she glanced up to see Hannibal Lecter sporting a bloody mouth and the man who'd pushed past her standing over Franklin's dead body.

Her hesitation was her downfall. Tobias struck quickly. He flung an elbow in to Hannibal's mouth, knocking him to floor, incapacitating Hannibal just long enough that he was able to launch, and snatch Charlotte. She turned to run but his fist bunched her hair as he heaved her back before she had a chance. She struggled desperately as he ferociously dragged her in to the room.

Charlotte shrieked in pain as Tobias threw her down by Hannibal Lecter's desk. The corner caught her head with an almighty crack. She groaned loudly and gritted her teeth as the pain radiated through her skull. Tobias straddled her quickly and wrapped his hands tightly about her throat. He was animalistic. Charlotte looked up at him with panic. She wouldn't die like this. She would not die on the floor of Hannibal Lecter's office. Her hands splayed as she searched the floor blindly for help.

Hannibal struggled upward and watched with detached interest. While Tobias was distracted he could plan the man's murder. Charlotte couldn't see Hannibal from her place on the floor but he watched her with a predatory gaze. He was genuinely impressed by how well she fought for her life.

Realistically she didn't have even the slightest chance of surviving. _Shame_.

Hannibal however smiled ever so slightly when he saw her snatch a golden letter opener that had fallen from his desk during the struggle. She swung with such purpose that Hannibal was impressed. The knife dug deeply into Tobias shoulder. He roared out in pain and let go of her. She wriggled away, dragging the knife from the wound she had inflected, which caused a hot stream of blood to spurt down his chest. She scrambled forward but Tobias dived on her. She was knocked forward and splayed against the hardwood.

"Give me it!" Tobias roared as he tried to wrestle the knife from her hand. She shrieked as he grabbed a fist full of her hair and slammed her head against the ground. She continued to struggle as he twisted her on to her back. Charlotte _still_ wouldn't let go of the knife. Tobias flung a punch at her cheek. It made a thick thud sound that made Hannibal softly grimace.

Hannibal begun to stalk forward. He was carful. He wouldn't make a sound till he was sure he wanted Tobias to hear him.

The punch was just enough for Charlotte's grip to loosen and Tobias snatched the blade. She struggled under him but he had her right wrist in his hands. He pulled her up and she felt her body drag up to be suspended by her one wrist held high in the air as though she were some grotesque marionette. She struggled viciously beneath him.

He dragged the blade slowly and deeply in a perfect line down her wrist.

It didn't hurt.

Not at first at least. She watched the blood pour down her arm as though it weren't her own.

Hannibal took his opportunity. He pulled Tobias off of her with a grunt and glanced the blood that had splattered across Tobias and Charlotte.

It was as though she was thrust back in to her own body when it hit the wood floor beneath her. Reality ravished her quickly. It was her blood. She was going to bleed out and die in some psychiatrist's office in Baltimore. She couldn't breath. She encased her wrist with her left hand but blood ran between her fingers. It looped and weaved like weeds and strings. Her blood was brighter than any red she'd ever seen. While everything else around her greyed the blood sat vivid against her pale skin. She took gasped breaths and haled herself to her feet. The crimson mess left droplets behind every move she made.

Hannibal fought with Tobias as she dragged herself away from the desk. Towards the door. _She had to get out_. She had to survive. He wasn't going to die in such a desperately banal way.

Charlotte heaved herself forward with one shaking step after the other. The blood splattered and she gripped her wrist tighter. It felt as though the life was literally spilling from her body. She stumbled from the waiting room. She could vaguely hear yelling from behind her but she couldn't distinguish if it was Tobias or Hannibal.

She struggled towards the stairs in front of Doctor Lecter's front door but finally her legs could no longer carry her. Her footing slipped and she slide down the stone steps. Leaving a long smear of her own blood behind her.

Charlotte cursed the damn stranger from the Opera. She wouldn't die like this. She _refused_.

Her thick red blood continued to puddle around her. Creating soft streaming lines that ran like tiny waterfalls down the stairs.

She felt cold and fevered all at once. The concrete of the stairs pressed against her and her head lulled backwards. Charlotte heard the foot steps come to her. She tried to struggle but was too weak. Her body was numb and her eyelids heavy. Black dots swarmed her vision and she sucked in another deep breath. Someone snatched her wrist in a vice like grip. Her bloody left hand fell away; It stained her skirt. A man was yelling. Other people yelling. It all sounded a million miles away. Her hands and feet were cold.

"Charlotte can you hear me?" a soft voice called. She looked up to see a bloody and bruised Doctor Lecter.

She nodded but the shadows blotting her vision drowned her and she surrender to the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

_Obvious thanks for anyone who reads and a __grateful__ thank you to everyone who reviewed. I blush at your kindness :). Enjoy!_

**Chapter Four **

Charlotte spent the next forty hours drifting in and out of consciousness. She caught snippets of the days like they were flickering film.

Two things were always present. The pain and Hannibal.

He'd been in the Ambulance. He was there as the overhead lights flashed above her as she was rushed down hospital corridors. She knew they'd given her surgery. End-to-end anastomosis repair. She'd overheard Doctor Lecter asking questions about the stitch patterns while holding her hand in the recovery ward.

It was a nightmare that finally woke her.

_Floating just above the deep black water Charlotte marvelled at how peculiarly still it was. Her finger tips caressed the silk smooth water. Soon however horror shattered her awe as she saw him still and floating beneath the water. His blue eyes unseeing and his hair swirled around his head. She screamed his name but no sound came. She tried to reach through the water but she couldn't get deeper than her finger tips. She tried to scream again as he sunk deeper below the water. Away from her. She flung her fists against it but nothing happened. It was all so still. Soft ripples whirled at each of her strikes. He was floating downward into the abyss. His eyes were fading out of view. Deeper… deeper… deeper… darkness stealing him away…-_

She gasped as her eyes flew open.

Charlotte was met by the dim flickering lights and artificial stillness that only hospital's have. She was uncomfortable; the bed raised beneath which her cased her to sit slightly upwards. The dingy decoration of a room attempting to feel homely. Flower's lined the surfaces of all she could see, all with individual white cards willing her wellness. She stayed perfectly still and allowed reality to wash across her and drown the fear from her dream.

"Hello," a voice called. She tried to raise her head quickly but the pain that radiated through her scalp made her wince.

"Try not to move," the voice told her and she heard the footsteps walk to her right side.

Her eyes strained till finally she caught Hannibal. He sat close to her and she blinked tiredly.

"Hello," she whispered hoarsely. "How are you?"

He could see her gaze trace across his injuries. His bloodied lip and bruised forehead.

"Aching," he told her honestly. "But I would hazard a guess that I am feeling better than you are."

She smiled weakly and nodded as best she could. She glanced down to see her right arm held in a sling across her chest. Her gaze traced to see Will beside her. His head resting atop her bed spread. His hand wrapped in hers. He was awkwardly hunched forward from his chair but was sound asleep.

"He's been here for 30 hours," Hannibal informed her.

"You've been here longer," she said as she glanced up. "I remember."

"You nearly died."

"Ah… Doctor Lecter… but I did not."

He couldn't help but smile at her response.

"What else do you remember?" he asked her.

She closed her eyes and exhaled. "That man from the Opera attacked me… and you… and your patient I can only assume? Poor man."

Hannibal nodded slowly.

"Then you saved my life," she murmured glancing up. She looked grateful. Hannibal glossed her point. He wouldn't hold that over her.

Not yet.

"Do you remember why you had come to my office?" Hannibal asked and she pursed her lips.

"He kissed her," Charlotte muttered. Hannibal nodded sagely.

"And you were coming to me for what purpose Miss Claude?"

"To ask you if Will loved me," she said with a small flush of embarrassment. It felt petty to her now.

"His devotion over the last day and part would suggest so," Hannibal said. "He's devastated."

She looked wry.

"He won't forgive me for this," she muttered. She flinched as pain radiated through her scalp once more.

"I need to tell Jack Crawford you're awake" Hannibal told her. "You're unfortunately now part of the investigation. My apologise for having involved you in my predicament."

"Hardly Doctor Lecter this isn't your fault," she said with a comforting smile but he saw the flicker of dislike in her eyes when he'd mentioned Will's boss's name. "What's the time?"

"Four in the morning ," Hannibal said. She raised her brows and he chuckled.

"I am here because you inadvertently saved my life," Hannibal explained, answering her unasked question. "And as I previously said; Will is devastated. I could not leave my friend alone in such a state."

"Your loyalty is astonishing," she said with a weak smile. "The only place I want to be at four in the morning is bed."

"At least you haven't broken your trend," Hannibal uttered. She smiled at his joke and closed her eyes once more.

"I'll be back in a moment," Hannibal's voice drifted into her ear and she nodded weakly.

As Hannibal left her behind him he decided that she would be spared. Jack hadn't seemed to believe him as completely as he would've liked about the attack. Charlotte's memory portrayed him innocently which made her invaluable for now. She certainly was a lucky girl.

In Hannibal's absence Charlotte didn't fall back asleep. She'd sat and stared at the top of Will's head. She loved him even though it hurt and she prayed quietly that he loved her too. That he hadn't stayed beside her out of guilt. She hoped that her near death experience would be enough to shock him into letting her in. She hoped it would be enough for him to realise that at any moment she could disappear forever. That she wasn't token; she wasn't granted.

She considered waking him up but from the glimpse she could catch of his face she saw black lines had carved beneath his eyes. He never slept and at least he was resting, even in such terrible circumstances.

Hannibal called Jack as he had promised and Jack arrived with him at 6am along with a heavy dose of pain medication that she was desperately thankful for.

Jack's heavy footsteps woke Will. He sat up quickly and blinked a few times with a slack jaw. He pulled one hand roughly across his stubble covered jaw. His left hand never left hers.

"Good morning Will," Jack said with a sternness that unsettled Charlotte.

"Good morning," Will croaked as he tried to gauge his surroundings. He looked up at Charlotte and she smiled softly with a sleepy eyed gaze.

"You're awake," Will breathed. He stood quickly and leant across her. He was so awkward in his own body that Charlotte couldn't help but find it endearing as his hands hovered either side of her bruised face. He kissed her very gently and she smiled against his lip.

Hannibal watched Jack grow uncomfortable but he enjoyed the scene. Will certainly did love this girl. What a baptism of fire for their commitment to one another. What a desperately vulnerable point in Will's antisocial armour.

Hannibal's smile of eminent chaos would have easily been misconstrued as a smile of happiness by those around him. It only made it sweeter.

Charlotte allowed Will to gently kiss her forehead and stroked her hair from her face.

"Even with that bruise you're beautiful…" he said as his gaze flicked across her battered face.

"Thank you... I'm fine_,_" she whispered comfortingly.

"Fine's a stretch," Jack interrupted. Charlotte was pricked with IV's. Her wrist in a splint and a sling. Oxygen tube tucked beneath her nose. A heart monitor softly beeped beside her. A purpling bruise spreading across her right cheek. "I'm sorry you faced such brutality, however I think you'll be helpful to us."

Will glanced up at Jack and stood. His fingers traced protectively down her arm as he went.

"Jack," Will said warningly.

"Will we need a witness report," Jack said matching Will's tone.

Charlotte nodded and glanced up at Will.

"It's fine," she said.

"I'm staying," Will said firmly. Jack thought he could argue but Hannibal caught his eye and softly shook his head.

The interview was swift. She'd given as much detail as she could. One thing however from her statement sparked Jack's interest.

"You seem calm about this," Jack said. His tone was casual but there was nothing casual about that statement. She stared him for a long moment.

"Pardon?"

"Considering a man tried to kill you less than three days ago you sound very detached," Jack continued in his nonchalant tone.

"Jack," Will warned.

"Would you like me to cry?" Charlotte asked sincerely. Jack sat back from his notes and sighed softly.

"You don't need to be difficult," Jack said.

"She's not being-"

"She is being difficult," Jack repeated angrily levelling Will with his gaze.

"You know what Jack," Will begun. His jaw was tight and gaze cruel. Charlotte had seen this before. It never ended well.

"Will…" she murmured softly as her hand caught his sleeve.

"She is probably in shock Jack," Will continued, completely ignoring her. "Head of the Behavioural Science Unit and you can't even spot shock?"

"You're being rude Will," Jack said coldly. Will's comment had hit a nerve.

"You're bad at your job Jack-"

"_I am **trying** to do my job_!" Jack bellowed. **"Step outside!"**

Charlotte didn't flinch.

Will's hand wrapped around her wrist tightly.

"Could you and Hannibal get me a coffee please?" she asked. Although the question was directed at Will her gaze had asked Hannibal who'd nodded and took Will from the room.

The softness in her face left the moment Will did.

"Don't come here," she said evenly. "and accuse me of lying Jack."

"I'm not saying you're lying-"

"I work _very_ hard to be polite to you," Charlotte said with the same subtle hostility. "You listen to me, Jack Crawford; you know _nothing_ of what you're putting Will through _every. single. day_. I have to be strong and I don't appreciate any insinuations-"

"Have I made you detached?" Jack asked callously.

She sat upright despite the pain. She didn't want him looking down at her. She wanted to be eye-to-eye with the biggest threat to Will's life.

"I have _nothing_ for you Jack," she said in a low growl. "You're _killing_ Will. He is falling apart. I am worried about _him_ not some _random_ attack that happened."

Jack didn't have a response. Rage bubbled just under her cool surface. She wasn't going to indulge him. She'd be as kind as decency dictated but that is where she had drawn her lines.

"He's saving-"

Charlotte shot Jack such a vicious look he silenced himself.

"Don't you dare say what you're about to say," Charlotte hushed vehemently. "I can't hear it. Not again."

Charlotte lay back against the bed. She was in a temper and in too much pain to continue. Jack noticed her heart monitor showed her distress at the conversation.

"I know you're worried about Will," Jack said softly, attempting to approach from a different angle. "But I'm stone. I won't let him break."

Charlotte opened her eyes and shook her head slowly in disgust.

"Do you know he sleep walks?" she asked coldly. Jack said nothing.

"I don't think he knows," she said with a soft viciousness that was amplified by her melodic accent. "He's spilling."

"He is making decisions-"

"That he'll regret," she finished for him. "Don't lie to me Jack."

Jack nodded softly and closed his notebook.

"I'm sorry," Jack said and she glanced him up and down.

Silence lay heavy on the room till Doctor Lecter and Will returned.

Both noticed the significant tension.

"I trust Miss Claude's witness report are to your standards Agent Crawford?" Hannibal asked and Jack nodded.

"Thank you for your help Charlotte," Jack said and she stared up.

"Of course Agent Crawford," she said with such soft poison Hannibal's interests were once again tickled.

"Perhaps we will let you get some rest," Hannibal offered and she nodded.

"Would you like a lift home?" Jack asked but Will shook his head.

"I'm staying."

Will sat in the chair on her left and tightly wrapped his hand in hers. She clung to him.

"I may head home," Hannibal said. "If it wouldn't be trouble for you to drive me Jack."

Jack smiled tiredly and nodded. "Of course Doctor Lecter."

"Thank you Jack. Goodbye Will," Hannibal said with a bow of his head. "I hope you feel better Miss Claude."

She nodded and bid them adieu.

Hannibal glanced back in to the room and felt his fire for destruction light. She stared at Will with such intensity he knew she was more than just some girl from the Opera.

He'd deconstruct her. Will and Charlotte wouldn't have a single secret from him by the time he was done. Piece by piece, shred by shred Hannibal would make sure everything they were and ever could be would be laid bare at his feet.

Hannibal Lecter finally had his appetite back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you again for anyone who continues reading. You're all fantastic. Once again a special extra thanks to anyone who reviewed. I appreciate your time and your kindness. It's lovely to hear that you're enjoying it :) so please, enjoy chapter five! _

**Chapter Five**

Will nuzzled against Charlotte's hair and took a deep inhale. She smelt to Will the way the earth did just after the rain. A fresh but heavy sweetness. He inhaled her for a moment longer before carefully wrapping her closer in to his arms. She was still sore, her arms still in a sling, and her head still covered in bruises but Will had never thought she had looked so beautiful. She nuzzled closer in her rest and curved against him. He had missed her. After seeing her like that in hospital… unconscious… smelling of antiseptic and death…

Will shook his head to rid himself of the memories as early dawn light softly spilled in to the room. The dogs were fast asleep, his space heater keeping everyone warm. Charlotte shifted once more in her sleep, muttered his name once, and was unconscious again. Will smiled and traced a hand down her side. He'd lost himself in her for the last few days. She'd felt like a holiday from everything he was suffering from. From Jack and the FBI. From darkness and nightmares. She had settled his soul in a deliberately boring routine of sleeping, eating, and intimacy.

Despite her arm Charlotte had been insistent and Will could only smile softly while remembering her whispering his name in to his ear and her fingers wrapping tightly in to his hair. The way she'd shivered beneath his ghosting fingers. The way he'd caught her moans in his mouth between fevered kisses. Will wrapped his arms around her once more under the cool morning glare. He felt like for the first time in a long time that he was home.

The dogs heard the roar of Jack's SUV before Will did. Their soft whimpering alerted him and he carefully untwined his way from Charlotte's sleeping form. He quickly dressed and strode to the door, flinging it open before the dogs could bark and wake her.

Jack was already on the porch and he peaked in the window to catch his view of a blanket swaddled Charlotte fast asleep in bed.

"Is she ok?" Jack asked in a low voice. Will nodded as best he could as he stepped outside and closed the door.

"Just worried," Will said quietly. "Why are you here jack?"

Jack said heavily. "There's been a murder in Grafton, West Virginia," he begun but Will shook his head.

"I can't leave her alone," Will said with a small twitch. Jack glanced in to the house once more and sighed.

"Could we call somebody?" Jack asked as Will hesitated. "One of her friends?"

"We could call Hannibal," Will said with slight discomfort. "He's a doctor. If something went wrong…"

Will stopped himself from imaging that eventuality.

Jack agreed and called Doctor Lecter quickly. They were lucky, it was an invoice day and Hannibal said he'd happily come to look after their little patient.

Will entered the house with that confirmations and gently awoke her. He leant over, his hands softly pushing hair from behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered and she looked up with a sweet smile and a yawn.

"How are you _mon amour_?" she asked softly. She caught his left hand with hers and kissed it softly across his knuckles.

"Charlotte I have to go with Jack," Will said quietly. The sweetness evaporated from her eyes and she struggled upright. Will helped her and she caught the gaze of an uncomfortable Jack Crawford standing on their porch.

"No," Charlotte said firmly. "No Will please-"

"Hannibal is going to come and look after you," Will interrupted softly. "We won't leave till he arrives."

Charlotte gave a disappointed stare to Will. That wasn't the point. Charlotte considered an argument but she knew Will would never listen.

She sighed defeat and shrugged. "Well let him in," she said quietly as she glanced up to see Jack still on the porch. "He'll die of the cold out there."

Will had obeyed and she struggled from bed. She was still in her pyjamas and her hair was a mess but Jack still noticed how intimating she could be when she wanted to be.

"How are you feeling?" He asked and she gave a warn glance to him.

"Fine," she said. "Perhaps Will you will help me dress?"

Will had obliged her and just allowed the uncomfortable silence to envelope the house till Hannibal arrived an hour later. Hannibal had been Charlotte's hospital companion for nearly her entire stay and she was so relieved to see him walk up towards the house Charlotte rushed forward to answer the door.

Hannibal allowed her to give Will a chaste kiss as a goodbye, and watched in small amusement as she snatched Jack's sleeve and gave him a pleading look which Jack had returned with sympathy.

She'd kissed Hannibal's cheeks hello. Charlotte led him through the house and settled him in front of the space heater with a cup of tea. The next hour had passed easily and enjoyably for him. She'd listened to his anecdotes and spoke about her Opera work. He read to her in French from chapters of her many books and enjoyed her elected taste. She was provincial yet sophisticated. She adored living in the desolate farm lands of Wolf Trap but her home was filled with warn books on philosophy, art, music, and many other subjects that ignited passion for him. The fact she was still so wan was a blessing. When Hannibal fetched her painkillers and antibiotics he'd simply added a sedative. She was soon dragged under by the benzodiazepine. As she dozed lightly in her arm chair leaving Hannibal was free to paw through her and Will's home. He found old family pictures upstairs of her home in France. She'd come from a big family of six children. The photo's were all old and warn. None of them was she older than the age of seventeen. He tucked one of the pictures away to study it later. He'd left after receiving a phone call from Will who was panicked that he'd arrived at his office with no recollection of the journey. Hannibal didn't rouse Charlotte so when he took his leave he simply covered her with a blanket and left her none the wiser.

So two days later, continuing his trend Will had begged Charlotte to go to a dinner party at Hannibal's home. She wasn't a fool. Party was a stretch. It was a business meeting to discuss the prospects of Freddie Lounds writing Abigail Hobbs's biography. Charlotte felt bitter that she should have to sit in the same room as Ms. Lounds. The woman had snuck in to the ICU and taken a photo of a blood covered, tube filled Charlotte pre surgery. She'd written a horrific story painting Will as a 'black hole' that had 'sucked this young opera star to near her death'. She'd received flowers from nearly everyone she'd ever met and the whole thing had been utterly humiliating.

Will however was insistent that she should not be left alone. She hadn't put up much of a fight however since she truly adored Hannibal's company. He was European and even though she adored America it was nice to speak to somebody in her mother tongue.

They'd chatted languidly but warmly in the car about how dull their week wrapped up in their home had been. He spoke shortly of the case but seeing her skin blanch he had detoured conversationally to what she'd be doing when she returned to work. She'd glossed it, instead choosing to worriedly stare at his tired face. The playfulness that reached his eyes when they'd first met was diminished under the burden of his work. He was still devastatingly handsome but a harsh shadow of anxiety darkened his boyish features.

"Things are never dull with you," Charlotte said quietly. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

Will smiled quietly to himself as the car pulled up in front of Hannibal's home.

"This is where he lives?" Charlotte said with a slight laugh of disbelief.

"Impressed?"

"A house to match the man," she muttered. Will opened her car door for her and guided her up the stairs gently with a hand pressed to he lower back. She noticed his hands ghosting across her of late. Making sure she was well as though he needed tangible proof that she had survived her injuries.

"Come here," she said softly as they waited for Doctor Lecter to open the door. She fixed Will's glasses and his tie. Will smiled his goofy smile of thanks and she bit her lip with a soft grin.

Hannibal opened the door as she swiftly kissed Will. She turned to the psychiatrist with a brilliant smile as he showed them into his home.

"Where's Abigail?" Will said with a small shake of his head as he shrugged away his coat and tossed it on a nearby armchair by the door.

"In the living room," Hannibal answered as he watched the coat with some discomfort. Will disappeared into the house and Charlotte turned a kind smile to Hannibal.

"As Will seems to have missed such simple courtesies allow me to respond for both of us," Charlotte said with a sigh as she picked up Will's coat. "Good evening Doctor Lecter. Thank you for inviting us in to your home. The civility is not unappreciated."

She softly bowed her head.

Hannibal smiled down at his petite friend. He took Will's coat from her and while he was helping her with her coat he quickly kissed her cheek.

"You look elegant Charlotte," he said. She laughed and battered her uninjured hand.

"I can't even brush my own hair but thank you Doctor Lecter."

"Hannibal," he corrected and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Hannibal," she repeated with a soft nod of her head.

Hannibal guided the still injured girl in to his living room before safety hanging the coats in the corner. Freddie Lounds sat on the sofa and smiled with a wide insincere grin at the french girl.

"Hello Miss Claude," Freddie said as she stood quickly to shake Charlotte's hand. "Considering this is a business meeting I'm slightly surprised and confused at your presence."

Will gritted his teeth slightly and gripped the arm of his chair.

Charlotte graciously shook Freddie's hand.

"Considering you wrote such a stellar expose of my medical conditions I'm surprised that you don't consider me business related," Charlotte said. "You certainly consider my business yours."

Freddie's smile faltered slightly and Hannibal glanced at the uncomfortable Abigail.

Charlotte broke from Freddie and walked over to meet Abigail. The teenage girl stood quickly and brushed her hands across her jeans.

"You must be Abigail Hobbs," Charlotte said very warmly. The girl nodded and smiled anxiously.

"You're Charlotte Claude, Will's girlfriend," Abigail said as her eyes darted between Will and Charlotte.

"I am," Charlotte said with a swift nodd.

"You don't look as sick as i thought you would," Abigail said quietly. Uncomfortably Charlotte knew she was referring to the article on TattleCrime.

"Thank you Abigail," Charlotte said with a gracious smile despite her frustration. "May I call you Abigail?"

The anxious teenager nodded.

"You're even more beautiful than Will said," Charlotte said with sincerity. Abigail blushed and Charlotte smiled softly across the young thing. "You don't need to blush if it's true my dear."

Abigail nodded at Charlotte's advise a Hannibal Lecter slowly directed the party to the dining room. They filed in, Will's hand once again carefully resting on Charlotte's back.

Hannibal stood at the top of the table and gestures for Charlotte and Abigail to sit at his Right and Left side respectively. Lounds sat beside Abigail and Will beside Charlotte. Will glared at Freddie over the ostentatious centre piece. She smiled pleasantly with a dark goading in her eyes.

Hannibal's guests all took their seats except Charlotte who'd become distracted. She stared at the painting above the fireplace.

Hannibal glanced at her from his place at the top of the table.

"Miss Claude?" he called.

She glanced back, her soft curls feathering her face.

"Doctor Lecter is this a _real_ François Boucher?" she said with an awed expression.

Hannibal smiled with genuine pleasure at her recognition. It was rare for people to appreciate art.

"Yes. What a keen eye you have Miss Claude" he said and her eyes widened. She turned back and placed her uninjured hand to her heart.

"It's so exquisite," she whispered with an awed shake of her head.

"Is it expensive?" Freddie Lounds interrupted rudely. Will shot her yet another filthy look.

"That's hardly the point," Charlotte said dismissively. "This is a fantastic example of Rococo style. Honestly, Boucher was one of the most celebrated decorative painters of the 18th century. He's a national treasure of my home. I lived in France most my life Doctor Lecter and even _I_ have never had the pleasure of seeing a real Boucher."

She turned and Hannibal gestured at her seat. She walked across and sat gracefully in her place but her eyes kept tracing back to the painting.

"It's really something," she told Hannibal with a fantastic smile. The entree and the main course had been as delicious as expected. Will had to cut Charlotte's food up for her as she only had use of her left arm but Hannibal had found the small act of kindness very engaging. Abigail was a bundle of nerves as the adults of the table discussed the pros and cons of her writing a book.

Charlotte had chimed in softly to speak to Abigail instead of continuing the inclination of speaking around her. "You know Abigail, you're only eighteen," Charlotte had said gently. "Your story will still be _your_ story in your twenties. I just wouldn't want you to feel forced into answering for someone else's crimes. Of course Miss Lounds is very excited at the idea but if we are honest her bias is clear."

Freddie shot Charlotte another aggressively insincere smile.

"It's my decision," Abigail replied defensively.

Charlotte smiled empathetically at Abigail. "I know Abigail," she said softly. "I do."

Abigail had bristled under Charlotte's kindness with a hot blush.

Hannibal had asked Charlotte's help with dessert and she'd happily obliged. He walked her through his beautiful home to his lavish kitchen.

The moment she stepped the threshold she spoke only in French.

"Français?" Hannibal questioned and she nodded.

"Do you think Freddie Lounds is above eaves dropping?" Charlotte asked quietly in French.

Hannibal chuckled darkly. "Dáccord," he conceded in agreement.

She leant against the kitchen counter, her left hand splayed on her counter top.

"How was your week Charlotte?"

She sighed and leant further into the counter.

"Truly wonderful apart from Jack Crawford," she said tiredly.

"Ah before I came to babysit vous," Hannibal said and she threw a gaze of mock irritation. "You don't seem to enjoy his company."

"Jack Crawford doesn't like me," Charlotte said in a low tone. "I'm a harsh reminder that his Will Graham is an actual human being."

Hannibal chuckled humourlessly. "Bien sûr," he agreed. "An uncomfortable point but well made."

He handed her a small pot of melted chocolate and asked her to stir it so it didn't set. She obliged. They worked quietly for a moment till she interrupted.

"Would I be allowed to speak to Abigail in your office sometime soon?" Charlotte asked curiously.

"Oui," Hannibal replied. "May i ask if it is for a specific reason?"

"I think if i was given the chance to speak to her face to face I think i could help clarify her situation," Charlotte said and Hannibal nodded. "It would be confidential no?"

"It would," Hannibal said, he could hear her hiding something but he wouldn't push her. "How does tomorrow at six pm sound to you?"

"Perfect," she said with a gentle smile. "Merci."

"You're more than welcome," Hannibal said calmly. "I'm interested to hear what you have to say."

She smiled warmly at his politeness till suddenly a look of true embarrassment washed her face. Hannibal softly cocked his head and she looked up with contrition written across her face.

"I am so rude Hannibal," she said quietly.

He glanced up and gave her a curious look.

"Merci," she said. "For saving my life."

Hannibal gave her an empathetic smile.

"I should of course say the same then," Hannibal said and she shook her head.

"Hannibal you were so calm and quick acting," she said. "Every time I look at the scar on my arm I will think of you and I will thank you."

Hannibal smiled warmly and she stepped forward, abandoning her chocolate duties for a moment. She reached up, a hand on his left cheek and kissed his right softly.

"Merci beaucoup," she said quietly. He gently rested a hand on her back and she pulled away with a grateful smile. They served dessert together. Hannibal had cut hers in to bite-sized pieces yet still had some ability to maintain its aesthetics.

"You're a true artist," she said in English as they reentered the room. A thick blanket of discomfort covered the three seated guests. Abigail looked close to tears.

"Are you alright Abigail?" Hannibal asked and she nodded.

"Just tired," she excused in a watery voice. The dinner had ended on a tense note but regardless Charlotte had been gracious in her thanks.

"Michelin quality," she'd said with an adoring smile. "You live up to your reputation."

"Mrs. Komeda painted you as a perfect guest," Hannibal said lightly and she smiled. "You exceeded all expectations. Even with one arm."

She smiled softly at his joke and kissed his cheek once more. She'd embraced Abigail softly and whispered for the girl to stay safe.

She'd said her goodbyes to Freddie Lounds with a pert nod.

Charlotte sat peacefully in the car on their way home. The dinner had taken a lot of energy but she hoped Will appreciated the support.

"I'm going to speak to Abigail tomorrow at six at Hannibal's office," Charlotte chimed as she stifled a small yawn.

Will didn't respond and she felt a frown pull at her lips.

"I know it's awful but I think I can understand her given my own father and… that business," she said with a small shake of her head. "I think Hannibal will be able to help me communicate with her. Do you think it's a good idea?"

Will still said nothing and she sighed but continued.

"Honestly I can see her making the wrong decision and I know how alone she must feel… You have an appointment at 7, no? Perhaps we can have dinner afterwards?

She rolled her head to glance up at him. He was staring blankly at the long, dark, snowy road ahead of them.

"Will?" she called softly. He said nothing. "William?"

He continued down the bleak empty road. She watched him worriedly and touched his hand. He jerked violently and the car swerved. Charlotte snatched the wheel in alarm and corrected the car so it was driving straight.

She stared up at Will whose eyes darted violently around the car.

"Break the car Will," she ordered calmly as she could. He did and the car ground to a halt.

He stared at her with a panic expression and she stared back, her gaze riddled with anxiety.

"I'm just tired," he shot defensively. She nodded slowly and held her left hand to his cheek.

"You're so hot," she murmured with concern.

"I run hot."

"You don't."

Silence reverberated through the car and Charlotte sighed worriedly.

"Will you let me drive?" she asked softly.

"Your arm-"

"Please?"

Will nodded and she climbed from the car and swapped seats with him.

Will laid his head against the cold car window for the rest of drive home. Charlotte glanced worriedly at him.

There was only one person Charlotte trusted her loves wellbeing with. Only one person who had the same pure concern as her. Only one person who she could trust with her worries and confide her fears in.

Hannibal Lecter would help her save Will Graham.


	6. Chapter 6

_I've had to move the rating from T to M. This chapter isn't particularly graphic but carries a darker theme. Personally it's one of my favourite chapters so far as it paints a clear picture of Charlotte and her past. I hope you all enjoy it and obviously thank you for being such fantastic readers I adore your support! Enjoy my darlings! _

**Chapter six. **

Charlotte had arrived at Hannibal's office after her first rehearsal at the Meyerhoff since her attack. Mrs. Komeda had attended the rehearsal to provide support to her darling prize. Charlotte had been greeted with applause as she entered but she'd found it quashing; though she was sure that wasn't her colleagues intentions. In two days time they'd remove her sling and finally she could just cover the bandages with long sleeves till she healed.

Till then it was a loud reminder to those around her that she'd been attacked.

She'd arrived at Hannibal's at 5.55pm to her joy. Perfect timing. However she hadn't entered till 6.00pm as she had to talk herself up to walk past the pink stain on the staircase from where she'd violently bleed out.

She'd walked through the open door to see Hannibal sitting in front of his desk beside a nervous Abigail. The girl had a cup of coco gripped in her pale hands and she looked anxiously up at Charlotte as she entered. Hannibal stood and swept forward graciously to warmly greet her. Charlotte was always quietly impressed that anyone so tremendously tall could also be so graceful.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked and Charlotte nodded her please. "Red or white?"

"Pink, if possible," she said and Hannibal smiled at her. He acted quickly as she stood by his desk.

He returned, passed her her wine, and took her coat.

"You're sitting in my usual place," Hannibal answered her unasked question. "Considering you will be addressing not only Abigail but myself."

Charlotte hesitated but moved to his comfortable leather chair. She sat down slowly and Hannibal watched with keen interest as her entire demeanour changed. He could see a hardness set in her eyes and her posture straightened.

"Abigail," Charlotte said with a confidence Hannibal hadn't heard in her voice before. "I'm going to talk to you about some confronting things."

"I've heard a lot of confronting things," Abigail said with a gesture to her neck. She was so defensive in a very teenage way. Charlotte smiled at Abigail and shook her head softly.

"No Abigail," Charlotte said with a teasing chuckle at the girl's response. "What I mean is if you find yourself uncomfortable than I want you to tell me and I will stop."

Abigail glanced away. Charlotte turned her head to Hannibal and gave him a fervent look.

"I want you to help translate some things," she said insistently. "And if you think it's too much for Abigail, I give you my permission to interrupt."

Hannibal nodded. "Everything said here is confidential," he confirmed, looking particularly closely at Abigail. Abigail nodded, trying not to look offended that he would suggest she couldn't keep a secret.

Charlotte let out a long exhale and smiled humourlessly. "Let us begin shall we?"

She retrieved from her bag a warn leather envelope and laid it squarely in front of her.

"I want to give you a little bit of background before I begin," Charlotte said and Abigail nodded uneasily.

Charlotte opened the envelope and slid an old printed photo which depicted six children and their parents all stood in a green field. Four of the children had blonde hair, two brown.

"This is my family," Charlotte said sliding the photo in front of Charlotte and Hannibal.

"This is my mama Marion, here on the left," Charlotte said as her fingers gracefully gestured at each of the figures in the photograph. "My eldest brother Jean, my eldest sister Emma, my brother Karl, my brother Hugo, this one is me, the next one my little sister Manon, and on the end is my father."

Charlotte's hand hovered a moment longer over the unassuming brunette man.

Charlotte looked up and waited for a glance of understanding from both Abigail and Hannibal before continuing.

"This photo was taken three days before my sister Manon drowned," Charlotte said calmly.

"I'm sorry," Abigail interrupted awkwardly and Charlotte glanced up from the photo with a kind smile.

"Thank you Abigail," she said gently. "My father never really recovered. Manon and I looked very similar and as the years went by my father often called me by her name."

Hannibal leant closer to better investigate the photo.

"You are the only living sibling with your fathers hair?" Hannibal asked and Charlotte nodded.

"My father would often tell my mother that he didn't believe the others were his," Charlotte clarified in the same calm tone. "I don't think he was very well but he was respected and my mother is religious so we stayed."

"What did he do?" Hannibal asked.

"He was a doctor, but unlike yourself he mostly dealt with colds and sprains. He was inevitably declared mayor of our little town when I was thirteen. Despite his home identity he was quiet likeable in our town. My mother comes from old money and he used every penny he could get from her to further his careers."

Hannibal nodded his understanding and Charlotte turned her composed gaze to a confused Abigail.

"I think you will understand what i'm about to say Abigail," Charlotte said in a steady controlled pace. "From a very young age I felt like my father loved me _too_ much."

Abigail shifted uncomfortably in her seat and nodded.

"It's suffocating," Charlotte said, still holding Abigail's eye contact. She saw a flash of understanding in the young girls eyes. "It feels like you're going to drown in it and it is terrifying."

Abigail nodded as her quick gaze darted back to the photo.

"My father loved me enough for two children but I could only love him as one," Charlotte explained.

"I felt like that," Abigail interrupted in a small voice. "I felt like sometimes.. like he could always see me?"

"Like he was your own personal god," Charlotte finished for Abigail and the young girl nodded knowingly.

Hannibal watched the anchoring affect Charlotte had on his young charge and finally understood what Will saw in Charlotte Claude. There was something so composed about Charlotte that for the fading Will she would have been like heaven. Something strong and resolute burned in Charlotte's eyes and as Hannibal watched the intensity that rose from her he smirked inwardly. She was Will's anchor. She was Will's strength.

"On the eve of my 18th birthday I left," Charlotte continued, unruffled. "I couldn't take it anymore Abigail so I ran away. My brother Karl drove me out of town to a train station in the middle of the night. My mama gave me 1000 euro and I went to Paris."

"Why did they help you?" Abigail asked, transfixed by Charlotte's tale.

"Because we lived in this tiny little town," she answered. "We had no where to be but this house that we were stuck in all the time and everyone could see my father getting sicker. He would come and sit and watch me sleep. He would brush my hair for me and hold me for just a little too long. No one could say it but we all knew."

"That it was wrong," Abigail said abruptly and empathetically. Charlotte nodded with the same air of serenity around her that Hannibal couldn't help but commend.

Charlotte picked up her leather envelope again and fished out a news clipping from the L'express. The paper was yellowed and warn from years of handling and Hannibal delicately pulled it towards him.

"What does it say?" Abigail asked Hannibal as she furrowed her eyebrows at the French words in front of her. She could see a grainy black and white photo of the father from the photo Charlotte had shown them. He was in a well fitted suit while being handled by three burly police officers.

"It says 'Man found guilty of Aquitaine murders'," Hannibal translated and Abigail's eyes widened.

Hannibal continued to scan the article as Charlotte nodded a silent yes to a wide eyed Abigail's unasked question.

"You may continue Hannibal," Charlotte said softly.

"Albert Claude, aged 56, has been found guilty of four murders spread across the Aquitaine region in south west France," hannibal translated aloud. He glanced at Charlotte and she nodded her head for him to continue. "The murders begun early in 2004 and continued till Claude's arrest in late 2005. He killed four young woman, all aged 18. The girls all shared striking similarity to Claude's runaway daughter. Her name has been withheld for her safety. There is large speculation she ran away as she was aware of her father's capabilities."

Hannibal stopped and looked back up at Charlotte. She sat forward on her elbows, her hands clasped in front of her, and a poised look upon her face.

"Thank you Hannibal," she said with a quick smile before turning her gaze back to Abigail.

"He killed them," she said bluntly. "He dressed them in _my_ clothes and left them in their beds. He always cut my initials on the inside of their left thighs. He cut their hair to look like mine and he always sprayed them with a perfume that I wore."

Abigail blanched and Charlotte sat back slightly.

"I'm sorry Abigail is this too much?" Charlotte asked with concern and Abigail shook her head. "Do you have any questions?"

Charlotte glanced across Hannibal and Abigail.

"Did you ever feel guilty?" Abigail asked in a small voice.

"Always," Charlotte answered sincerely. "It took me years of therapy to realise that it was not my fault. That my creator's sins were not my own."

Abigail nodded, unable to make eye contact with Charlotte.

"It eats you alive at first," Charlotte said staring intently at the Hobbs girl. "Like insidious swarming shame. You imagine every eventuality where you are not involved. Where you can stop it. In which you're suddenly at home with your family and everything is fine. It will take you a long time Abigail to realise you are not responsible for what he did."

"My dad ate those girls," Abigail commented sharply and Charlotte nodded, her intense gaze never wavering.

"Abigail he was going to it if you'd have been born or not," Charlotte said firmly.

"Do you talk to your family?" Hannibal asked and Charlotte glanced back to him.

"I speak to Karl. He lives in Paris with his wife. I visited last year to see his beautiful baby girl," she said with a very warm smile. "I speak indirectly to my mother. I go to a psychiatrist which she pays for once a month and they tell her how I am."

"Who do you see?" Hannibal enquired.

"Doctor Fredrick Chilton," she said calmly. "He's not fantastic but he serves his purpose well."

"Why do you go?" Abigail asked and Charlotte sighed softly.

"Too appease her guilt mostly," Charlotte said. "I think a part of her thinks if i'd not been born my father wouldn't be who he was. I don't think of it like that. I think she married someone sick. I know that my father would've killed in my name or someone else's regardless of my history. It's also to comfort her that I won't become him. She sends me money every time I go but I reroute it to a trust fund for families struggling with the aftermath of violent crimes set up by the dead girls loved ones."

"What about everyone else?" Abigail asked, picking up the family photo.

"I don't speak to them," Charlotte said with a shrug. "It's just too painful."

"Did anyone write a book about you?" Abigail asked with a mirthless chuckle.

"Yes," Charlotte said with a sigh. "Several. I have a different name in each one. I didn't sign off on any of them. There a documentaries on my father's sins, countless news stories and television reviews. I know what that feels like Abigail. They called my father the Aquitaine House Wren," Charlotte said with ugly twist of her mouth.

Abigail opened her mouth to ask why but Hannibal swiftly answered.

"Male House Wren are widely documented for killing the young of their own species," Hannibal said clinically. "They're one of the most predominant infanticide participants in the natural world."

"Because he killed girls that looked like you," Abigail clarified and Charlotte nodded her head.

"But i can't imagine how you must feel Abigail," Charlotte said softly, her words dripping in empathy. "I'd ran away. I was in Paris by the time he was arrested, London when he was found guilty, then New York and eventually Baltimore. I can't image what it feels like to be in the eye of the storm."

Abigail dropped her gaze and nodded. Charlotte studied the girl understandingly.

"Does Will know all of this?" Abigail asked quietly and Charlotte nodded.

"I finally told him a few months ago... actually I told him when he met you," She said with a smile. Hannibal leant back slightly.

"Quiet recently?" Hannibal asked and she nodded.

"It's not my story," she said softly. "It happened around me but not because of me. Will was so perfectly understanding. He didn't see me differently. It was watching him be so kind to you Abigail that gave me the strength to be honest with him. Honestly it made me love him even more."

Abigail gave a weak smile and Charlotte smiled softly.

"I keep it to myself mostly," Charlotte finished. "It stains you in the eyes of some people. You'll have to learn to live with that."

"I'm stained in the eyes of the world," Abigail said resentfully.

Hannibal rested a hand on her shoulder and Abigail sunk in her chair.

"For now," Charlotte said lightly. "But there will be worse murderers, with better sounding names, and more grotesque crimes and then people will forget about you and what he did in your name."

Abigail nodded and they discussed back and forth for a while longer under at 6.50pm Alana Bloom had knocked on the door to collect Abigail. Charlotte had stood while Hannibal quickly slipped the documents back in to the envelope that housed them. Charlotte had been surprised when Abigail wrapped her arms tightly around her neck and whispered a thank you in her ear. Charlotte kissed the girls forehead and held her closely before she'd disappeared out of the door.

The moment Alana left Charlotte took a deep gulp of wine from her previously untouched glass.

"I had no idea," Hannibal said as he turned back from the closed door. Charlotte glanced up and smiled tiredly.

"Thank you," she said with a small bow of her head. "That is exactly what I want to hear."

Hannibal smiled and gestured her to the sofa that lay parallel to his therapy chairs. She stood, sweeping the leather envelope in to her bag as she walked with her pink glass of wine in her hand.

The moment she sat Hannibal saw the firm calmness she'd presented collapse with exhaustion. She looked more tired than he'd ever seen her.

"It's exhausting," she said catching his inquisitive gaze. "It's just so tiring to talk about. It feels like a million years ago but when I talk about it so plainly I remember it's as close as my shadow."

"How did Will feel about you talking to Abigail about this?" he asked. Charlotte hesitated, her lips pressed to the edge of her glass.

"I told him in the car after your dinner," she said nervously. "But… when I touched him to see if he'd been listening… it was like he'd woken up?"

"Like he'd been asleep?" Hannibal asked and she nodded.

"He swerved the car… I don't know Hannibal… it was like he didn't know where he was," she said quietly. She rolled her neck back with a sigh.

"You look tired," He commented.

"He keeps waking up with nightmares," she muttered. "I haven't slept a night through in days."

"I think you should stay in Baltimore," Hannibal said clinically. "Especially considering you've just gone back to work."

She seemed hesitant on the idea but nodded. "Maybe you're right," she muttered tiredly.

"If you ever grow bored of Doctor Chilton," Hannibal said, changing the subject swiftly before she could question his motives. "I offer my services to you."

She laughed and nudged Hannibal gently. "He's not so bad," Charlotte said softly. "But you're my friend, not my psychiatrist."

"Can I not be both?"

"For Will perhaps," she said with the same warm smile. "But not me. I've seen too many psychiatrists Hannibal for you to become just another anonymous face that I lie to."

It was as if he was on cue as a knock echoed from the door. Hannibal stood and smiled at Charlotte as she took another sip of wine.

He opened the door to see a very flustered Will. "Doctor Lecter," Will said curtly. Wild eyed and agitated he edged around the psychiatrist and threw his coat down beside Charlotte. Will glanced back before he recognised her.

"Charlotte?" he asked in an abrupt and uneasy tone. "Why are you here?"

"I told you," she said gently as her brows furrowed. "I was going to talk to Abigail about my father."

"That's a terrible idea," Will said in alarm. His eyes darted between herself and Hannibal. "Doctor Lecter why would you agree to this?"

"I think the way Charlotte handled such a difficult situation shows very good strength of character. Abigail doesn't have a construct of how she can grow from her situation in a productive way," Hannibal said smoothly. "I think todays conversation did more good for Abigail than most of her therapy has."

Will shook his head and ran his hands through his hair.

"Charlotte I wouldn't want you to do this," Will said, panic constricting his throat.

Charlotte's story was nothing like Abigail's. Abigail had _killed_ Nicholas Boil. Charlotte was _nothing_ like her father and Abigail was. Charlotte was pure and untouched by the horrors of what he did. She had not a single drop of blood on her hands. Will couldn't loose her to the swirling shadows that were constricting his life.

"Well when I told you in the car you seemed fine," Charlotte said irritably. "And you left at five this morning with Jack. I didn't have a chance to run it past you again considering you ignored three of my calls today."

Will rubbed his hands over his mouth and stubble.

"It's done now," he snapped with finality and paced across the room. Charlotte placed her wine glassdown and collected her bag.

"Did you want to have dinner still?" Charlotte asked and Will gave her the same confused expression.

"Never mind," she muttered. "Will i'm going to sleep in Baltimore for the next two nights. I have six am rehearsal and I need to sleep ok?"

Will nodded and glanced anxiously to Hannibal. He clearly wanted her too leave so Hannibal simply delivered her coat and helped her drape it over her shoulders and her arm in the sling.

She kissed Hannibal's cheek and scowled at Will as he refused to acknowledge her, looking everywhere but at her.

She closed the door sharply.

"Did you tell her about this morning?" Will asked in a rush, referring to the fact he'd contaminated a crime scene due to lost time.

"No," Hannibal said calmly. "You're a patient Will. That was confidential."

Will nodded and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Good," he said as he exhaled deeply. "Good. Thank you."

"I take it by your panicked tone that you don't wish Charlotte to know?"

Will chuckled darkly and rolled his neck as he leant against the ladder leading to Doctor Lecter's library that encased the room.

"I just think… until you and I can figure out why I'm… I'm a different crazy lately Doctor Lecter," Will said as his jaw tightened. "I don't see why we should bother her just yet."

"Not when you could hide it," Hannibal agreed suavely. Will nodded and made his way towards his usual chair.

"Her story to Abigail was surprising," Hannibal commented evenly and Will nodded.

"Charlotte's had enough sick men in her life," Will said with a tight throat. "I don't want to add to that number."

Hannibal nodded his agreement.

What a fantastic turn of events. He barely listened to Will for the next hour. He'd made him draw a clock and had smirked his private satisfaction when he released how dramatically impacted Will's spacial awareness truly was.

Encephalitis. Inarguable he knew that Will had Encephalitis.

He glanced Will from over the sketch of the clock.

"Just don't tell her," Will repeated tiredly. Desperation darkened Will's features and Hannibal agreed.

Finally Hannibal was playing with a full deck of cards. He had Jack's weakness, Will's weakness, and finally- Charlotte's.

Hannibal smirked inwardly once more about the clock and closed the sketchbook before turning an intensely sincere look to his sickly patient and friend.

"I won't will," he said resolutely. "_You have my word_."


	7. Chapter 7

_Your reviews, follows, and favourites are fantastic! I appreciate your time and effort more than I can say! So a big bright thank you to you all! A glowing thank you to anyone who continues to read :) I promise you Hannibal's insidiousness is closing in on our favourite pair. Enjoy my darlings! _

**Chapter seven **

Charlotte sat in her car in the parking lot outside of the FBI academy with a brilliant beam pressed to her face.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

Of course it had come as a massive surprise when she'd initially only gone to the doctor that morning to have her sling and bandages removed. She'd mentioned she felt slightly nauseous of late and very tired. Charlotte had asked if that could be an infection from the would. Two cups of urine and a blood test later the Doctor told a shocked Charlotte that in 8 months time she would be holding a baby.

_A baby._

Once the waning dread washed away however Charlotte felt a surge of joy. It wasn't a bad thing at all. She loved Will and after watching him with Abigail, Charlotte didn't have a doubt in her mind that he'd make a fantastic father. She'd continue at her job which she loved; Will could return to teaching full time. Charlotte was keenly certain that they could make this all work out.

So she sat in her car and steeled herself to tell Will about her unexpected surprise. She wondered how he'd react. Probably very shocked at first but certainly in a few days he'd settle to the idea and perhaps even feel joyful. She could see it in his eyes that he was ready for the challenges of fatherhood. Neither of them were teenagers. They were financially and professionally stable. The baby was a _good thing_.

Of course things had been very difficult of late but that was due to the terrible work Will was doing. Jack Crawford certainly wasn't her favourite person but once he heard that she was pregnant surely he'd understand where Will's priorities had to lie.

She glanced herself in the mirror. A soft pink glow had taken her face. She radiated her joy at such news. As long as Charlotte had lived she'd wanted this. Finally she had it. She had a fantastic partner, a wonderful home, and a baby. Everything was so normal. So bourgeois. She could wrap herself up in it she loved it so.

After a lifetime of running away, of horrors, and of danger she was safe. She had arrived at her personal nirvana with a man who loved normality just as much as she did. She didn't want to reach for the stars. She wanted to spend sundays making breakfast with Will and walking their pack of dogs in the fields around their farmhouse. She wanted that normal perfection that had eluded her for so many years. Last year when she had visited Karl and his tiny baby her heart had filled with envy. They lived in a tiny apartment on the left bank but she felt more at home than she ever had in their gigantic country manor from their childhood. Karl and wife were happy with life and Charlotte had realised that that was the most beautiful thing she could ever ask for. She'd realised on that holiday that she didn't have to run anymore. When she'd returned to Virginia Will had met her at the airport gate with a warm embrace and she'd silently vowed to herself that she would be as normal as they both possibly could be.

Charlotte thought about their unborn child. The doctor said it was only as big as a grain of rice but she was already thinking of what it would inherit from herself and will. Would their baby have a her eyes and his hair or her nose and his lips? Would it be quiet like Will or calm like herself? Would it love dogs and the countryside? Would she make sure her baby could speak French?

She fantasised about it for a long while, her hand pressed protectively to her still flat stomach. None of that mattered yet. Just as long as it was healthy and happy everything else would fall in to place.

Charlotte smiled at herself and shook her head playfully.

_It could only be good news._

Finally she left the car and begun to walk towards the Academy. She'd gone home and changed after her hospital appointment. Her hair was flowing, her makeup subtle, wearing one of Will's favourite outfits with a bright red coat atop it all. She felt so much better without the sling. She could drift through crowds with out the physical identification marker of victimhood. Charlotte was many things but she absolutely despised being a victim.

The receptionist had been helpful enough. She'd written down on a white card the number of the Lecture hall that Will Graham was booked in to. She'd told Charlotte she liked the colour of her lipstick and Charlotte had been very flattered. Her plan only faltered three large clinically corridors later. She had no idea how to find the room and her plan to tell him breathily as she kissed him was becoming a pipe dream.

She was staring too intently at the piece of paper with numbers scribbled upon it to even notice the young man she ran in to.

He caught her before she could fall and she glanced up wide eyed at the handsome all-american student who held her in his arm's with a cheeky smile.

"Hello," he said as he helped her stand upright. Charlotte blushed and giggled at her own clumsiness.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and the man smiled down at her. "But maybe you could help me find something?"

"Face like yours," he said flirtatiously. "How could I say no?"

"I'm looking for this room," Charlotte said. She handed him the white piece of paper and ignored his advance.

He glanced over it quickly and grinned. "That's Mr. Graham's room," he said with a brash wave. "It's so easy to find. Just turn left, walk-"

"Bennett!" a loud female voice commanded.

The man snapped upright and turned a perturbed gaze to a gorgeous, tall, confident woman strolling towards them.

"What did I say to you last week?" she ordered. He glanced down with a twist of his mouth.

"Not to be late," he said sullenly.

"Not to be late to class because you keep hitting on women!" The woman corrected him vexedly.

He glanced across her as though he might argue.

"Did I stutter?" the woman snapped. Bennett shook his head and rushed away.

"Oh!" Charlotte called over to him as she realised he still had her piece of paper. "Excuse me!"

He however had disappeared around the corner and couldn't hear her. Charlotte sighed and turned back to face the confident woman who's expression was significantly more friendly.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a half cocked smile.

"I'm looking for Will Graham's room," Charlotte said with another sigh. "But that man took the piece of paper with the number on it."

"I know where that is," the woman said cheerfully. "I'll walk you."

Relief swept through Charlotte and she beamed up at the tall woman.

"Thank you," Charlotte said gratefully. "My names Charlotte."

"Beverly Katz," the woman returned with a strong shake of Charlotte's hand. Charlotte winced slightly. The stitches hadn't healed as much as she would've liked but she did her best to hide the discomfort caused by her right wrist. "How do you know Graham?"

"Uh, I'm his partner," Charlotte said with a flickering smile as she walked beside Beverly.

Beverly turned an amazed glance to her. "Partner?" she repeated with a bemused laugh.

"He'll have told you exactly nothing about me," Charlotte chuckled gently.

"Do you live together?" Beverly asked and Charlotte nodded.

"Most of the time," she replied. Beverly nodded and Charlotte watched her mull something over.

They walked in silence till Charlotte's curiosity and irritation could take no more. She knew it would be a question like 'how did you meet?', 'What do you do?', 'How long have you been in America?'. All equally banal questions but they certainly constricted conversation till they were asked

"You look like you need to ask me something," Charlotte edged with a wry smile. "Beverly you can ask me, what would you like to know?"

Beverly hesitated for only a moment before turning her sparkling enquiring gaze to Charlotte.

"What was it like when Will found Madchen under your bed?"

Charlotte's brows furrowed. Nothing in that sentence made sense to her.

"I'm sorry?"

"When Will found Georgia Madchen under your bed," Beverly repeated as her eyes glowed with interest. "That must have been really scary! Did he jump down? Did you call Jack?"

"Under our bed?" Charlotte asked as calmly as she could. "You mean a victim?"

"No the one that carved up that girls face," Beverly said with out thinking. She threw a bemused look to Charlotte. "You don't know?"

Charlotte gave Beverly a blank expression as those words reeled meaninglessly in her mind. Beverly stopped speaking and turned to Charlotte with wide eyed alarm.

"Shit you didn't know!" Beverly said suddenly. "Oh my god! I'm sorry! You're probably not supposed to know!"

"You mean to tell me," Charlotte said in a low voice. "That a murderer hid under my bed?"

Beverly shook her head but her eyes said yes.

Charlotte felt all sound leave her ears. Her blood was boiling. How was she supposed to _raise a baby_ in their home when_ insane murderers_ were _literally_ hiding under her bed?

She looked up to see Beverly saying something but the hot blood rushing in her ears had deafened her to reason.

"Is this Will's room?" Charlotte asked in a deadly soft tone. Beverly shook her head and pointed to the room at the end of the corridor. Charlotte and nodded and set off towards it. Beverly attempted to follow but Charlotte turned and abruptly stopped her.

"I appreciate that you told me accidentally Ms. Katz," Charlotte said softly. "But I would appreciate it if you didn't follow me."

Beverly nodded slowly and turned to quickly walk away from what she was sure would be her next crime scene.

Charlotte balled her fists till her nails dug bloody crescents in to her palms. She had absolutely never felt so angry in her whole life. Her joy and adulation of finding out that she was expecting was crushed under the now raw and hot rage crawling across every inch of her skin.

She walked slowly towards Will's lecture hall to find him sat behind his desk. It was littered with bright photos, though Charlotte couldn't make out what the pictures were. She stood in the mouth of the dark lecture hall and her jaw tightened. She was literally shaking with anger.

Will was silent, his chin to his chest, and his glasses slipped down his nose.

"Will."

His head shot up as he blinked to check his surroundings. He rubbed his face and pushed his glasses up his nose before finally recognising Charlotte.

"Charlotte?" he asked in a hoarse tone. "Charlotte are you ok?"

She stared at him with all of hell's fire.

"Georgia. Madchen."

Realisation dragged all colour from Will's face. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He scrambled up and around the desk, swiftly walking towards the trembling Charlotte.

"Charlotte-"

"When where you going to tell me?" she snarled viciously.

"It's not like that-"

"Is it not?" she snapped dangerously. "Was I not privy to this information?"

"I didn't want you to be upset-"

"**I am upset**!" she exploded. Will leant back slightly. She'd never lost her temper with him that violently. She was usually so calm and serene. Her emotions were always tightly coiled and controlled. She was furious. "I am **_very_** upset!"

"Charlotte I didn't want you to feel unsafe in your own home," Will replied urgently as he tried to explain. "I know how unsafe you felt in France. I didn't want you to feel like that-"

She interrupted him with a cold incredulous laugh.

"Are you _seriously_ trying to blame this on my childhood?" she asked as her eyebrows furrowed in shock. She glared at him as though daring him to continue his theory.

"I'm not blaming-"

"They are _not_ related!" she yelled. "That is an _unrelated_ point!"

Her eyes traced to behind the overwrought Will to the bright photos littering her desk. She glanced him and darted around him towards it before Will could stop her.

She circled the desk quickly as Will hurried behind her in an attempt to stop her.

"This is the problem!" she snapped savagely as she collected handfuls of the large crime scene photos. "These are!"

She turned to the startled Will and thrusted the vividly violent pictures back in to his grip.

"This. Is. The. Problem!"

She punctured each word by thrusting a different photo of a violently bloodied body in to his chest.

"I know!" Will tried to entreat.

She went to shove the next photo to him but it caught her gaze.

"Is this woman's face pealed back?" Charlotte asked as bile climbed up her throat.

Will blanched and silenced at her question. She glanced up at him as the connection slammed in to her.

"This killer was in _our_ house?" she cried. "You lead this _insane_-"

"She's not insane," Will interrupted angrily. "She's unwell."

"**_This person doesn't have a face_**!" Charlotte exploded. She slammed the photo back on to the desk and gripped the edge till her knuckles turned white.

Will said nothing as he slowly laid the photos back on to the desk.

"How do you expect me to ra-"

Charlotte begun but froze. No. She absolutely would not ruin such a precious moment of letting him know she was pregnant by shouting it in the middle of the largest argument they'd ever had. She wouldn't allow her rage to taint her joy even though her blood burned with a temper she didn't know she was capable of.

"Expect you to what?" Will snapped exasperatedly. His frustration overwhelmed his anxiety and he glared angrily at her. His understanding was waning and his indignation that Charlotte had ambushed him at his place of work engulfed his ability to feel shame.

"When does this end?" she asked. Her voice had dropped but the violent rage still glittered in her gaze.

"It's not forever it's-"

"Till when?" Charlotte interrupted. Angry tears welled in her eyes. "I want you to tell me when this will be finished."

Will silenced and looked away from her. His shoulder fell and he twitched softly.

"i don't know," he said in a quiet voice.

Those words punctured her. She felt wounded. She stared at him as he refused to meet her gaze. His fingers ghosted across the ghastly pictures beside them.

"Will it isn't fair," she whispered rawly. "It's not fair on you. It's not for on us."

"I'm saving lives."

That was it. Trump card. Conversation over. The argument couldn't continue because he'd crushed any argument she could come up with and he knew it. She gripped the edge of the desk till the wood bit into her white knuckled hand.

"Fine," she said in a small, bitter voice. "Play that."

"What?" Will said incredulously. His teeth bared slightly and he shook his head fervidly. "I am!'

"I need to talk to you!" she shot back. "We need to talk! 'I save lives' Is not talking!"

"Charlotte-"

The sound of a throat clearing cough echoed from the entrance of the lecture hall and interrupted Will and Charlotte's conversation.

Their heads shot up to see a solemn Jack and Hannibal standing baring expressions that promised nothing but bad news.

Jack stepped forward and Charlotte unseeingly shot a hand out to touch Will. Her finger tips pressed his chest and she waited as though coiled and ready to fight.

"Will there's been another murder attached to the Gideon case," Jack begun

"Will," Charlotte rushed in a whisper. "I am asking this of you."

"Graham we have to-"

"Will," Charlotte interrupted as her eyes pleaded with Will. "I need to speak to you. I am begging you, _don't go._"

Will hesitated and shifted uneasily.

"Graham," Jack commanded and Will gave Charlotte an apologetic look. He picked up his coat and followed a solemn Jack from the room, throwing her one sorry look before he left.

Charlotte heard a loud buzzing in her ears and she leant heavily against the desk. How could having such good news crumble so quickly beneath her? She clutched the edge of the desk with both hands till her knuckles turned the same shade of white as her face. What was she going to have to do to protect their unborn child from psychotic killers literally hiding under their bed?

Her jaw tightened and she closed her eyes fixedly. The normality she'd worked so hard for was crumbling beneath her. Her strong footholds that kept her together disintegrated and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"Charlotte," a calm voice cut in. Her eyes fluttered upon and she glanced to see Hannibal Lecter standing very close to her. She'd all but forgotten he was there during her drowning panic.

"I'm angry," she said in a taught voice.

"I don't blame you," Hannibal said as he came to stand beside her. "I would be angry if I were you."

"Aren't you angry?" she asked in the same raw tone. "Aren't you angry at what Jack is doing?"

"Of course," Hannibal said calmly. There was but an inch between them and he could feel hot rage steaming from her skin.

She took a few very deep breathes in and out. Hannibal leant down carefully and inhaled her as she breathed.

Her regular perfume clung to her but something else was there. Something new and primal, something as old as the earth its self…

Life. Charlotte was pregnant.

"Did you just smell me?" Charlotte asked with a small uncomfortable chuckle.

"You're wearing a beautiful perfume," he said suavely. "Tom Ford. Velvet orchid."

She glanced up with a quirked brow and a small smile.

"Yes," she laughed with soft surprise. "My god that's an amazing sense of smell you have!"

Hannibal smiled easily at her.

God himself couldn't have timed her falling pregnant better. An unborn child made her and Will so deliciously vulnerable Hannibal felt like laughing aloud in pleasure. He settled instead to gently rest his hand on top of hers. She leant against him gingerly.

Charlotte Claude had no idea what Hannibal had in store for her.


	8. Chapter 8

_You gorgeous wonderful people and your support. You warm my heart and inspire me to keep writing. Thank you for your time and your kindness. _**_Much much much love to all of you!_**_ Please enjoy this chapter. 3_

**Chapter Eight **

Hannibal arrived at the hospital with a glint of boldness burning in him. He'd awoken at 6am to find his phone full of messages from Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom. Not of blame but all reaching for help. Not a policeman at his door. Not an arrest warrant being drawn up for him.

He'd successfully subverted Will to attempt to take another life and still no one was the wiser.

Hannibal therefore walked with a heavy confidence as he went. He congratulated himself with a smouldering smirk that he'd escaped all consequences to his actions _again_. He'd taken such satisfaction in knowing that Will, even in the middle of a skyrocketing temperature and a seizure sought _his_ council over Charlotte's. Love wasn't such an easy thing to overcome but Hannibal's confidence grew slowly but surely that he would be Will's creator and his master. Charlotte was no match to his insidious manipulation.

He'd walked with a bold gait till he neared Will's room. He slowed however when he caught glance of the scene occurring in the corridor. Jack's back was to him but he could see Charlotte. She was still in costume from the previous nights performance at the Meyerhoff. A vivid red gown curled about her, matching smudged lipstick and copious curls of hair. Her warn and disheveled appearance was swaddled in an oversized black wool coat. She somehow managed to still hold some kind of grace despite it all. She still managed to hold her own against Jack despite the fact she'd obviously not slept a wink.

"I need to speak to him first," Jack argued. As the conversation met Doctor Lecter's ears he allowed his smirk to fall and a faux concern to wash across him.

"I need to speak to him," Charlotte said concretely. "Jack. I am not asking you. I am telling you."

"We need an incident report."

"This isn't an incident," Charlotte said with the same firmness. "_Your_ Doctor, _your_ expert Alana Bloom has told me that Will is _very_ unwell."

"We will figure out what is wrong with him," Jack promised her.

"_You_ are what's wrong with him," Charlotte said bluntly. "_It's you_."

Hannibal saw Jack's shoulder square at her comment. Charlotte's eyes never stopped burning in to Jack. She held herself with the confidence and strength of the Goddess Artemis.

"Good morning," Hannibal interrupted. Jack turned swiftly to the good Doctor and gave him an exasperated look to convey his frustration with Charlotte.

"Good morning Doctor Lecter," Charlotte said curtly. Her head was high, her boldness palpable.

"This is not for discussion," Jack said as he turned back to Charlotte.

"I know it's not," she snapped back. "I am going in first."

"Charlotte," Jack said as anger reverberated in his words. "If you go in before I do I will have you arrested for perverting the course of justice."

She blinked at him.

"Are you threatening me?" Charlotte asked incredulously.

"I am trying to do my job," Jack responded vexedly. "Which you, single-handedly have made a lot more difficult of late."

"Will isn't your job," Charlotte retorted. "He's a human being. Not a loose end."

"Doctor Lecter," Jack asked, clearly holding back his temper. "Could you _please_ take her to wait in the cafeteria until I give my instruction for her to return?"

She glared up at Jack odiously.

Hannibal nodded. "My pleasure Jack," he said and beaconed Charlotte to him.

"If he is harmed Jack," Charlotte whispered darkly as she walked past him. "I will _never_ forgive you."

Jack looked away and she followed Hannibal with her head high and her spirits unbroken.

She sat opposite Hannibal in the near empty cafeteria hall, a black coffee in a paper cup wrapped in her hands, and a simmering rage burning through her.

Hannibal sat in silence in front of her. He knew when to push and he knew when to stay silent. He considered his ability to read a situation one of his biggest strengths and he knew any advance for conversation about Will now would be seen as patronising.

The silence dragged through till finally her eyes met his.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He shook his head and crossed his hands on the table in front of him.

"You've no reason to apologise to me Charlotte," he said evenly. "No reason at all."

She took a deep sip form her cup.

"How was your performance last night Charlotte?" Hannibal asked in an attempt to make her start talking.

She smiled wryly and glanced about the room.

"I sung Don Giovanni's_ 'Ah! Chi mi dice mai'," _she answered with a dark laugh.

Hannibal couldn't help but genuinely chuckle at that answer. "A passionate plea and promise by

Donna Elvira that she will carve her seducers heart out for betraying her," Hannibal confirmed and she nodded with a playful roll of her eyes.

"I honestly think it was one of the best performances I've ever given," she said with a dark chuckle. "My colleagues said they'd never heard it sung so passionately. I got a standing ovation."

"Well there's always a silver lining I suppose," Hannibal responded.

She nodded and took a sip of coffee.

"Barring the fact of course I thought blood would pour from my ear I was so enraged," she muttered and Hannibal chuckled once more. Silence prevailed for a moment before she sighed deeply once again.

"I think I might hate Jack Crawford," she uttered with frustration.

Hannibal chuckled and glanced her warmly.

"You'd have more reason than most," he answered. "I can empathise deeply with you."

"It's like Will's fading," she said with the same frustration. "Like his mind is spilling. Jack is so objectively blind when he wants to be."

"Jack is law enforcement," Hannibal said calmly. "They're very black and white Charlotte. His concern is saving lives and I think he's convinced our Will that they share this one soul purpose in life."

"What about Will's life?" she asked.

"Alana and I are making that argument on a daily biases," Hannibal promised. "I assure you."

"You're both nothing against Jack," Charlotte murmured. "He's alike a mountain of a human being."

Hannibal nodded and hid his satisfaction that Charlotte was so underestimating of his capabilities. She still saw him as friend and not foe.

"I don't know what kind of life I can build with Will like this," she confided quietly. Hannibal considered for a moment if she was actually aware of her pregnancy or not. He decided to push.

"What life do you envision for yourself and Will?"

"Normality," she answered after a beat of silence. "Just normal. So normal. We live in that farm house, we eat dinner, buy groceries, we pay bills, and get married. I take his name. We have kids with his hair and my eyes. They speak French."

Hannibal smiled across the table at her.

"And too many dogs," Charlotte said with a weak chuckle. Hannibal smiled warmly at her response.

"Do you envision yourself as a strong candidate for motherhood Charlotte?" Hannibal asked curiously.

"Yes," she said with a small tug at her lips. "I do."

"Do you consider Will a good fit for fatherhood?"

She considered his question for a moment and sat back against the uncomfortable plastic chair before she took another deep sip of coffee.

"Doctor Chilton says… in a very pragmatic way that Will is a good fit for me," she begun slowly.

Hannibal waited patiently, assuring that his expression was interested but not too much so.

"Doctor Chilton said that… because my structures for love were so abnormal, that Will's introverted personality allows me to exist healthily with someone who won't overwhelm me," Charlotte said as she scratched a spot on the table in front of her.

"An adequate idea," Hannibal replied coolly.

"I think he's really right," Charlotte conceded. "Will is so loving but it's not suffocating. He keeps the perfect distance from me but I see how warm he is with Abigail. I see how much love he has in his heart because of all those stray dogs."

She smiled at her own small joke and Hannibal smiled back.

"Do you think he'd naturally gravitate towards fatherhood?"

"I think it would fulfil him," she said honestly. "I think it would fill that big, gaping hole that saving lives does. I think a baby would give him purpose."

"I think that is a very interesting, valid ideology Charlotte," Hannibal replied unperturbed. "Perhaps I should give my colleague Doctor Fredrick Chilton more credit than I currently do."

Charlotte smiled softly at his confession.

"I know Will is unwell Charlotte," Hannibal said empathetically. "But you will have years to plan that future I assure you."

He could see the considering expression grip her gaze. _She did know._

"It might be less time than that," she said vaguely as her fingers traced invisible patterns on the table in front of her.

Hannibal cocked his head curiously. She glanced up as she weighed his trustworthiness.

"Hannibal," she said quietly. She leant forward and he mirrored her. "Can you keep a secret?"

Internally he chuckled. _Oh_, he thought darkly. _You have no idea Charlotte_.

"Of course Charlotte. For you I can."

She softly bit her lip and looked up at him.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered and flushed softly.

Hannibal allowed a natural amount of surprise to spread his features.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she continued in a whisper. "Absolutely, entirely sure."

Hannibal reached a hand forward and rested it upon hers.

"Congratulations," he said warmly. She smiled but he saw hesitation in her eyes. "Or… perhaps something else?"

"No, no, It's good. It's so good. It's just…" she whispered as a contrite look grasped her. "I haven't told Will yet."

Hannibal nodded slowly.

"Is that why you were at the academy a few days ago?"

She nodded with a blush. "It didn't work out as planned."

Hannibal let out an exhale of humour. "I guessed so by how angry you were," Hannibal replied.

"I'm still angry," she confessed. "I was going to tell Will when he woke up but… Jack took that from me as well."

Hannibal paused and weighed his options silently.

"Perhaps this isn't a bad thing," Hannibal said delicately.

He saw offence darken her features.

"My meaning being," Hannibal explained swiftly. "That you wouldn't wish such wonderful news to be considered a burden."

Her brows furrowed slightly.

"Will is still very unwell," Hannibal continued. He treaded lightly. "I wouldn't want him to consider the blessings of a child as one more thing to be anxious about. I have not known him as long as you Charlotte but I have seen both therapeutically and in personal interactions neurosis in Will that can cause him to respond poorly at times."

Charlotte looked down at their hands on the table.

"If I've overstepped Charlotte," Hannibal said apologetically. "Ignore me. I only offer my opinion to help you."

She hesitated as she considered the new information. "I don't think you're wrong," she said quietly.

"Just wait till he's finished with his fever," Hannibal said. "Once we can diagnose and treat him I'm sure he'll be overcome with joy by the news."

Charlotte nodded slowly but before she could respond an orderly interrupted them to let them know that Will was awake and that they could see him now.

Hannibal had stepped back to allow Charlotte to move effortlessly towards Will. She perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed sweat soaked curls of hair form his forehead.

"Hello," she soothed gently. "How are you my handsome man? How are you feeling?"

"Are you mad?" Will asked quietly. Hot fevered worry clung to his words and she tutted him softly.

"No," she whispered sweetly. "No _mon __trésor_, I am so relieved you're ok."

She kissed him softly on his forehead, leaving a smudge of a red lipstick kiss behind. He smiled weakly and she gently peppered small sweet kisses across him.

"You just concentrate on getting better _William_. For me. _Please_."

Over the next few days Charlotte stayed by Will's side almost continually. Hannibal intervened occasionally with offers of food and coffee. He watched with silent delight that she had taken on his manipulation as her own decision by deciding not to tell Will she was pregnant. If Will thought his unborn child was in danger he'd leave the FBI in a heartbeat and Hannibal just couldn't have such a banal thing happen with such a fascinating man. He'd lose contact with Will. Hannibal wouldn't let go of all his subtle subversions. Not yet. Not when Will was so close to realising his true potential and when Hannibal was so close to having somebody truly see him.

He saw Will's encephalitis be continually misdiagnosed. He saw him abandon Charlotte to chase an invisible killer Hannibal was confident he'd never catch. Hannibal watched Will slowly but surely wrap himself in the web he'd had laid for Will. Will's fever worsened, his paranoia grew, and to Hannibal's pleasure he watched Charlotte _still_ keep her pregnancy a secret.

Hannibal watched her with keen interest. Charlotte could hold up a world of pain and suffering. Will's empathy made him particularly interesting due to the fact Hannibal had never encountered anyone like that professional or personally. In saying that he'd also never met anyone quiet like Charlotte. Will's empathy made him easy to remould. It was the remoulding and reshaping that fascinated Hannibal. He however found Charlotte's serene self assurance in the face of all adversity completely captivating. Hannibal had only one question in the forefront of his mind regarding Charlotte Claude.

What would it take to break her?

Hannibal watched from his place in the shadows with a burning contentment he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. He hoped Charlotte felt as strongly as claimed she truly did about her future with Will. For what Hannibal had planned for them would take every inch of Charlotte's strength to survive.


	9. Chapter 9

_I think this is the last truly canon chapter. I'm working out some things regarding next season and how Charlotte will weave in nicely without disrupting the story too badly so please allow for some disfluencies in chapter postings. Bare with me and I will do my best to write something interesting and engaging for you all. Thank you my darlings for your on going response & reading. You're all wonderful & inspiring. :) enjoy this chapter my dears xx _

**Chapter Nine **

Will walked though the open fields of his Wolf Trap home while his dogs wove around his feet. Finally his head was clear. His fever was waning and he could feel himself returning from the fog that had clouded his thinking for months. He could feel himself slowly but surely returning to who he knew he was. The delusions and the fantasies that had woven in to the tapestry of his everyday were melting and he felt as though he could truly see again. Jack had finally listened to him about Georgia Madchen. Will wouldn't let her tortured soul be dishonoured by her death.

Will inhaled a deep breathe of the crisp Virginia air and allowed the winter sun to kiss his skin. He could _see_ the copy cat. It was _so close_ he could almost touch it. He knew he was missing only _one_ thing. There was patterns but he just couldn't stitch it together. The copycat had to be close to Jack and himself. He and Jack had probably unintentionally exposed those victims to the copycat. The key was to find the thin red thread that tied it all together. Will felt as though he knew this killer. He just had to think harder.

His thoughts gravitated towards Charlotte as he looked up at the house. His little sailboat on the grass plains filled with his happiness. Charlotte had been unwell of late. She'd said it was nothing but he wasn't so sure. She had become so affectionate since his discharge from hospital. He caught her simply staring lovingly at him around the house. She had a delicate feline beauty that Will was reminded of in those moments. She'd smile adoringly and bite her lip whenever he'd catch her, somewhere between kittenish and coy. It melted him. Charlotte moved like smoke and he'd forgotten it till he was watching fluidly walk about their home. She was so aware of every inch of her skin. Her brunette hair bounced about her, her long lashed glances, and pillowed pink pout drove him to distraction. Will knew he was remembering who he was again because he was noticing her again.

Will wasn't sure what had changed but he was enjoying the warm intimacy their home had taken on since his discharge. She sat a little closer, smiled a lot more, and told him she loved him repeatedly.

Will smiled fondly from the field. He wouldn't question her behaviour. He just enjoyed how happy she was in his company.

As he walked towards the house he could see the outline of Charlotte pacing on the porch. She was wrapped in her pyjamas and his warn dressing gown. He waved and she waved back with a loving smile. He took a few long strides up the porch and smiled boyishly at her. She smiled adoringly back. He was so devastatingly handsome when playfulness was in his eyes.

"You didn't take them," she scolded as she handed him his bottle of antibiotics. "_Naughty_."

He chuckled and took them from her hand. He tapped them out and swallowed two of the plastic pills. She smiled coyly as he opened his mouth to prove he'd swallowed them. She stepped close and languidly wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, lingering against his lips, and sighing softly. His smell comforted her. He smelt like warm fireplaces, fresh snow, and cut grass. He smelt like home.

The moment was interrupted when Winston jumped up and rested his front paws in her hip. She scratched his ears affectionately.

"_Winston_," she cooed as the dog wagged his tail and panted excitedly. "_Mon petit chien_."

She smoothed back his golden hair. Will smiled at the scene and rested his hand on her opposite hip. Most people found his incessant collecting of strays off-putting. Charlotte however viewed it as living proof that a deep river of kindness ran through Will's heart. Charlotte had admitted very early on in their relationship that she found his love of animals incredibly comforting. It was only when Will knew about her father and her childhood did the true significance of that statement settle in.

"We should have called him Gadget," she interrupted his thoughts with her musings. "Gadget the golden dog."

"It's not a name," Will chuckled.

"I don't think Buster is a name," she retorted as she at glanced the little dog weaving a figure of eight around their legs. "But you chose that over my suggestion of James."

"James isn't a name for a dog," Will said with a half cocked smile and joined her in patting Winston.

He glanced down at her to see a light sallow tinge to Charlotte's skin.

"Are you feeling ok?" he asked and she glanced up pleasantly.

"You don't get to ask that," she muttered teasingly. He smiled but ignored her and placed a hand on her forehead.

"You're clammy," he mentioned and she shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said with a reassuring smile.

She wasn't about to tell the still unwell Will that she had morning sickness. It had arrived like clockwork on the sixth week of her pregnancy. Every morning she'd awake to a bubbling feeling of nausea rushing over her.

She'd called Hannibal and he'd comforted her. He'd told her it was a good sign, that it meant that she had good hormone levels, and that he'd get her some prenatal vitamins. She took them religiously under his instruction as he was still the _only_ person she had told.

She had noticed Will recognise her fatigue. He attributed it to stress.

Despite her attempts to assure him she was fine a sudden surge of sickness pushed up her body. She rushed to vomit over the banister of the porch and into the bushes bellow.

She whimpered softly as Will stepped forward and worriedly wrapped an arm about her waist. He rubbed her back and she leant forward over the banister.

"Fine?" he asked again. She leant back, rested her head against his chest, and gulped softly.

"I just need to lie down," she murmured quietly. Will lead her back into the house and lay her down in their bed. He brushed some hair from her face as she closed her eyes with exhaustion.

She hadn't asked Doctor Lecter how long the sickness would last but she was starting to dread that it would never end.

"Maybe you do have flu," Will said with gentle concern and she shook her head weakly.

"I probably have a stomach virus," she mumbled. Will nodded and edged closer to her. He gazed at her with worry.

"I promised Abigail a favour today," he said, being deliberately vague. "It might be a good idea for you to go to Baltimore. You'll be near Doctor Lecter if you need anything."

She would have argued but she knew he was right. She agreed, showered and dressed. She dozed in the car and Will had carried her unconscious form in to the house when they arrived. She was feather light. He always forgot how tiny she was due to the self assurance that made her seem about a foot taller than her actual height.

She awoke just as he lay her in bed. She kissed him softly and smiled through her exhaustion.

"I'll be fine," she murmured. "I promise."

He smiled warmly and kissed her once more. She wished him luck with Abigail, told him breathily that she loved him, and dozed off just as he locked the door behind him.

Charlotte had gone to work, gone back to her home in Baltimore, and fallen asleep in her clothes. She didn't have the energy to organise getting back to Wolf Trap. It was only the next morning when she awoke to several missed calls that she realised she'd forgotten to check how Will was.

The phone calls however were not from Will.

There was roughly thirty missed calls alternating between Jack, Hannibal, and Alana. Jack had texted her one message.

'Ms. Claude come to my office at B.A.U. ASAP.'

Worry settled across her. She called Will a few times but he didn't answer. She comforted herself by reminding herself that he often took a moment to reply. She showered, dressed in a blue dress that skimmed her bloated stomach, and checked to see if Will had called back. He hadn't. Anxiety spread through her and she finally called Hannibal.

He answered on the first ring.

"Charlotte where are you?" he asked quickly.

"I'm in Baltimore," she replied as she sat on the edge of her bed. "What happened? Are you ok?"

Hannibal sighed in relief.

"You're safe," he confirmed.

"Yes," she replied distractedly. "Where's Will? I have so many missed calls. Is Will ok?"

Silence.

"Hannibal?"

"Jack called me," Hannibal said calmly. "Will is safe. I need to take you to the B.A.U. I'll come now."

"Okay," she said as a feeling of dread washed down her. He bid her goodbye and she took some more of his prescribed vitamins while she waited.

When he pulled up to her home she was already waiting outside. She was wrapped tightly in a bright red coat. Cold air had pinched her cheeks pink. She wondered quickly to his car and slipped into the passenger seat.

Hannibal looked very grave and Charlotte felt her stomach knot tightly.

"Good morning Hannibal," she said quietly. Hannibal nodded solemnly and they sat in silence on their drive. He looked _very_ upset and she could feel a subtle, gripping panic drag through her.

Doctor Lecter was deliberately aloof with Charlotte. He silently watched her agitations grow. He could smell the fear coming from skin. He watched her posture fall, her skin blanche, and her jaw tighten.

Will was her weakness just as much as she was his. He watched her hands grip tightly in her lap. She wouldn't dare to look at him till she was sure he was looking at her. He glanced down at her when they arrived in the car park and she waited for his permission to get out of the car. Hannibal silently marvelled at how meek she was around him. She would stand against the storm of Jack Crawford but Hannibal refusing to greet her gaze made her tremble.

They'd walked in silence through the cold clinical corridors of the B.A.U.

Charlotte edged close to him but Hannibal stared ahead with a soft devastation in his eyes she couldn't understand.

Doctor Lecter watched as she hid behind him, timidly brushing her fingers against the tail of coat. Panic and worry was radiating from her. Hannibal still ignored her.

Charlotte walked behind Hannibal as they entered in to the Jack's office. Jack realised for the first time since he'd met her she looked afraid.

An agitated Brian Zeller stood beside Jack and a red eyed Alana Bloom was settled in the corner of the room.

She refused to meet anyones gaze and a trickling, freezing horror started to spread through Charlotte. She finally glanced up at Charlotte but took a short teary breathe in before she crossed her arms and faced the wall beside her.

"Hello Charlotte," Jack said. His tone was kind.

Charlotte froze in the middle of the room. Even when she was lying in hospital beaten and bruised, even when Will was burning a fever of 105; Jack had been rude. So his abrupt warmness terrified her. She stared at his out reached hand and wrapped her coat tightly about her. Charlotte eyed him with a glitter somewhere between fear and suspicion.

Jack dropped his hand and gave a small exhale.

"This is Brian Zeller," Jack introduced. The man gave a sharp nod and threw a hand up. "He's an investigation pathologist for the B.A.U. One of our best."

She nodded and bowed her head to Brian. He looked angry. The bearded man was handsome enough, but he was fidgeting. It was as though he was holding his tongue. Charlotte guessed he probably was considering the warning looks Jack was giving him.

A heavy feeling of grief blanketed the room and Charlotte felt her heart beat sharply against her ribs. She once again wasn't privy. The same sinking terror reached her as when they'd called her to say that Will was in hospital.

Jack gestured to the seats in front of him. She waited for Hannibal to sit but he didn't. He instead walked over to Alana, gently placed a hand on her turned back, and whispered something comforting to her. Charlotte settled on the chair closest to Hannibal.

"Charlotte we need to talk to you about something," Jack said solemnly. "It is very important that you are honest with us."

She nodded anxiously, hands wrapped tightly in her lap.

"Is Will ok?" she asked apprehensively. Zeller's fists clenched and Jack threw him a discouraging glance.

"Will is safe," Jack said and she nodded slowly.

"Good," she whispered with a fevered nod.

"Do you know where he was taking Abigail Hobbs yesterday?" Jack asked. He gave her intense eye contact and she shirked slightly.

"No," she answered honestly. "I saw him yesterday morning. He said he was going to see her. Then he took me to Baltimore, to my apartment because-"

She paused and blushed.

"Because?" Jack asked impatiently.

She could feel Hannibal's gaze burn into her.

"I was sick," she lied by omission. "And Will thought it would be good for me to be near Hannibal."

Jack nodded slowly and softly thudded his fist against the desk.

"Ok," he said as his eyes searched hers for dishonesty. "Have you spoken to him since then?"

She shook her head. Dread was filling her like freezing cold water.

"Is Abigail okay?"

She glanced back at the sound of Alana taking a sharp inhale through gritted teeth. Hannibal rubbed her back comfortingly as Alana hid her face again.

Charlotte looked back at Jack. He saw the growing uneasiness in her eyes.

"Will was arrested this morning," Jack informed her slowly. It sounded as though it hurt him to say it. "After physical evidence of bodily harm towards Abigail Hobbs was found on his property."

"She hasn't been to our house," Charlotte said confusedly and Zeller glared furiously at the spot in front of him.

"We also found identifiers of victims that we previously believed were the crimes of the copycat killer," Jack continued ignoring her point.

She stared blankly at him. Nothing Jack said was making sense.

"Previously?" she repeated in a taught tone.

Jack sighed and gripped his hands in front of him.

"We have found substantial DNA evidence that would suggest Will is involved," Jack said. His eyes shone compassionately and Charlotte stared unseeingly.

Silence gripped the room and she felt blood rush to her ears. Her knuckles turned white.

"I don't understand," she said in a tiny voice. It was almost missed but Zeller jumped on it.

"Will got found with human body parts at your house," Zeller said bitterly. "_He's our copycat killer_."

A loud buzzing filled Charlotte's ears.

"That can't be right," she uttered in a constricted tone. "You have to be wrong."

"The evidence would suggest we are… unfortunately… right," Jack said as his jaw set. Pain shone in his eyes. "Did you know he was loosing time?"

She shook her head dumbly and her eyes darted between Zeller and Jack.

Charlotte felt like she wasn't in her own body. She felt numb, hot, and cold all at the same time.

"What's going to happen?" Charlotte asked in a breath.

Panic crushed her.

"Will will be showed due process," Jack said. "We will take it from there."

She stared blankly.

"When we prove it," Zeller said cuttingly. "He'll get the death penalty."

"**_Z_**!" Jack shouted and Zeller stepped back with raised hands, though his expression suggested he was completely unapologetic.

Jack was speaking to her but Charlotte couldn't hear him. Buzzing filled her ears and fear overwhelmed her.

Jack's strong voice was drowned out by her horrified inner monologue that was on repeat.

_Not again,_ she thought with desperation. _This can't be right. This can't have happened again. Not Will. Not Will. Not Will- _

Vomit interrupted everyone.

She fell forward to her knees and snatched Jack's lined paper bin just as bile forced its way up her throat. With in seconds a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another held her hair back.

When she finished she sat back on her heels and landed heavily on the floor. She stared at her knees as the person holding her gently rocked her back and forth.

"Charlotte?" she could hear Jack calling. She eyes fluttered upward and she glanced to see him staring with concern. "Do you need anything?"

She tried to shake her head but a fresh wave of nausea caused her to buckle back over the bin.

"Zeller get a thermometer," she heard Jack order. "She might have caught whatever Will has."

"I haven't," she pleaded softly. Alana followed Zeller from the room, too upset to stand and watch any longer.

"We will take you to the hospital," Jack said as he crouched down by her. He reached out and placed a hand on her forehead. "You're hot."

She shook her head and leant heavily in to Hannibal, who was crouched and holding the shivering girl in his grip.

"Jack i'm not sick."

He stood and checked his phone.

"Jack," she called but he ignored her. Hannibal continued to smooth her hair back.

He was calling someone. She felt her heart sink as her head dropped and her shoulders slumped.

"_Jack, I'm pregnant_."

Jack hung up on whoever he was calling. Silence covered the room and she refused to look up. Burning horror crossed her as she realised how much more complicated this had made everything.

The door swung as Zeller walked in. Hannibal and Jack glanced up at the cocky scientist.

"Jack-"

"**_Get out_**," Jack bellowed. Zeller's face froze and he rushed out of the room.

Jack rubbed his hands down his face and begun to pace in front of her.

Hannibal attempted to help her up but she was heavy as stone. She'd collapsed under the news so instead he sat down and allowed her to lean back against his chest. She reached forward and unseeingly snatched the sleeve of his coat. Her paled fingers clung to him for dear life.

Jack let out a heavy sigh and nodded darkly.

"Ok," Jack said more to himself than to anyone else. "Ok."

She looked up and he saw heartbreak written on her face. Despite the fact she'd been so difficult for months he felt wounded by her expression. She'd only wanted what was best for Will. She'd begged him not to break Will and he had. He'd left her alone and pregnant. He'd taken every piece of family she had left.

"I just can't understand," Charlotte said in a raw broken voice. "I don't. How could Will… he couldn't of."

Hannibal noted with deep interest the sincerity in her voice. She was shocked but that was not the voice of her denial. That was the voice of her certainty.

"The evidence suggest-"

"It's wrong."

She struggled to stand and Hannibal helped her to her feet. Her fingers never unwrapped from his sleeve.

Jack simply nodded.

"I'm praying you're right," he told her and stared her down till she crumbled. She'd left the room with Hannibal's coat sleeve still in her hand. They paused outside and he glanced down at her.

He considered his next move carefully. She was vulnerable, alone, and in need of support. He could deny it to her and hope she begged for it but her stubbornness could make that plan null. He'd not known her long enough to have observe her responses naturally.

He placed a knuckle beneath her chin and nudged her gaze upward. She stared at him and took a small gulp.

"Charlotte I am so sorry," Hannibal said sincerely. She nodded as a single hot tear dragged down her face.

It was the first tear Hannibal had ever seen on her. It was only one but it was one more than ever before.

He gently brushed it away and she gave a weak smile.

If anyone would see through what he had done it would be her. She'd spent the majority of her life near a man whose capabilities were clear to her. If anyone could see a killer it would be Charlotte Claude. Her very life had depended on it previously. Her certainty that Will was innocent had not been from defence or desperation. Charlotte knew in heart of hearts what it felt like to be in the house of a killer.

_She knew that Will Graham wasn't a killer. _

Hannibal knew his life depended on her believing the same of him.

"Are you ok?" she asked in a tiny voice.

He nodded and took her lost face gently between his hands.

"Charlotte," Hannibal said as he leant down and stared intently in to her anguished eyes. "I have failed Abigail, I have failed Will, but I will _not fail you or your unborn child_."

Her hands ghosted her stomach and she nodded weakly in his grip.

"Thank you Hannibal," she whispered gratefully. He embraced her and her fingers wrapped against his blazer.

He breathed her in. She melted against him as he held her tightly in his embrace. Charlotte had _seen_ her father. Charlotte had seen through to the core of those around her whole existence. It had saved her life at eighteen. She had finally run to the safety of Will and Hannibal knew even though he could convince everyone else that Will was guilty of murder Charlotte would never believe him. Hannibal knew that. However all he needed was Charlotte to _not_ suspect him.

As she rested her cheek against his tie Hannibal gently thumbed her hair and rested his chin on the top of Charlotte's head.

She wouldn't see him. Not till he wanted her to. Not till it was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you to anyone who takes the time to follow, favourite, and most of all review. Your effort is very inspiring and definitely helps me write. Thank you to anyone who continues to read this story. I hope you'll feel engaged as I enter season 2. Please enjoy Chapter Ten my darlings, _**_much love to you all xo_**

**Chapter Ten **

Will hadn't seen Charlotte since he'd arrived at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He felt he was neither sick, criminal, or insane so he'd been anything but productive in his many appointments with Doctor Frederick Chilton.

Will hadn't had a lot of previous contact with the green eyed psychiatrist. Charlotte had described her sessions with Frederick as cathartic but Will couldn't see why. She adored her Doctor more than anything. In Will's previous experiences with Doctor Chilton he had found him obnoxious and haughty. Chilton honestly seemed to believe he was God's gift to psychiatry. Will often thought during their many therapy sessions it was a miracle that Hannibal Lecter hadn't killed Frederick yet. Frederick had short patience and Will couldn't help but smirk when he saw the Doctor desperately try to fumble his way through Will's thoughts. His lines of questioning were lazy and transparent at best, and clichéd at worst. It was only two weeks in to his stay that Frederick had finally found the crack in Will's ambivalent facade.

Frederick had apologised, albeit insincerely to Will for running late to their therapy session due to the fact his last appointment had run long. He'd casually mentioned Charlotte's name, not really thinking much of it till he saw Will's eyes sparkle ever so slightly at her mention.

A smug expression had lit Frederick's face as he realised he finally had something Will Graham wanted. Charlotte wasn't allowed in to the hospital for the first thirty days of Will's incarceration. The BSHCI had a very strict '_Isolation & integration_' program that prevented all new patients from having any contact that was not police officiated for at least the first thirty days of their stay. Will had considered this was perhaps a fallacy until Alana Bloom had confirmed it during one of their memory retrieving expeditions.

So Frederick would trickle pieces of information about Charlotte's well-being and Will in return would answer a question. Often his answers were lies but Frederick didn't mind, at least he was talking to him now. The details were vague at best but Will soon was able to draw up a rather substantial report. She'd moved back to Baltimore as she was too distraught to stay in their home, she was working extra hours for distraction, no one had seen much of her- that particular piece of information was of huge comfort to Will, and last but _definitely _not least she believed him innocent.

Frederick had revealed that last fact as though it were battery acid burning his mouth.

"_She is too good for you_," Frederick had growled but Will had simply smiled pleasantly.

Charlotte could simply not believe Will was a killer.

Beverly had confirmed that fact after Will had helped her with one of their more pressing crimes; a disturbing human made tapestry that preserved and presented a perfect colour palate of human skin. She'd mentioned Jack was murderous at Charlotte's completely lack of cooperation.

"Your Charlotte's the only thing in the world that can needle Jack Crawford," Beverly had said with a wry grin and Will couldn't help but smile back. "She doesn't know who did it. She just says it couldn't have been you."

Charlotte's strong beliefs of Will's sanity had finally tethered him. He felt a new confidence to start to explore other options. He imagined every eventuality till he settled darkly on Hannibal Lecter.

Will had greeted that certainty with joy and hatred. He finally had his thin red thread that linked everything together. Will had imagined his reckoning with sweet delight but had decided to cover Charlotte's eyes from the truth. He hoped against hope that she would arrive just as soon as her thirty day probation was through. He'd considered telling her but a sickening feeling crawled through him when he realised her fear of Hannibal might end up costing her her life. Hannibal could frame her disappearance with ease. He could forge that she'd gone home to France and not a single person would question it; given that her circumstances were as dire as they were.

Will had silently decided to himself that he would watch over her from his cell, ask Jack to protect her as best he could, and he would not let Hannibal drag her further in to their terrifying game. Charlotte's safety was of the upmost importance and Will decided when in doubt to use one of histories greatest sayings as guidance: 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'.

To Will's relief and delight she had arrived like clock work on day 31 of his time at the BSHCI. At 8.05am he was marched to the interview room by an orderly. The orderly made a crude comment that Charlotte had '_slim ankles and a great ass_' but Will had ignored him. Nothing would ruin his meeting with Charlotte and he wouldn't risk not seeing her for simply arguing against staff.

Will watched as four people greeted him. Jack Crawford, Doctor Lecter, Frederick, and finally Charlotte stood in a line as they awaited his arrival. Will felt sickeningly uncomfortable at how close Hannibal Lecter chose to stand by Charlotte. His hand hovered on her lower back. He gave Will a dark, goading look. Something in Hannibal's demeanour had snapped since Will was arrested. Will noticed that Hannibal spent most of his time subtly challenging him. It was as though he wished nothing more for Will to make real the monster he'd painted of him. Charlotte's attention held firmly on Will. The orderly walked Will to a cage but Chilton shook his head and gestured to the interview room.

Chilton had followed Will in to watch him be carefully cuffed to the table.

"This is for her," Chilton said in a low, cold tone. "She's my patient Mister Graham and I won't allow her to be further emotionally traumatised by having her speak to you through bars."

Will had thanked him regardless of his reasoning. Chilton waited by the door as Charlotte entered.

"Don't abuse your privilege Charlotte," he warned before he closed the door and left them alone.

She didn't sit down straight away. Will watched her hesitate by the door and glance about the clinical room.

"I'm glad to see you," Will finally said as he broke the silence.

He saw a flood of relief flush her face and she smiled with a heavy sigh.

"Yes?" she asked shyly.

"Yes," Will confirmed and smiled at her.

Charlotte thought he looked burdened. A tortured element had taken his features. It was heart breaking but at least he didn't look so unwell anymore. His eyes were clearer and his skin less wan.

"Your hair is so long," she murmured as she slowly walked over to gracefully sit in front of him.

"They won't cut it," Will commented and she chuckled.

"I like it," she said softly as she eyed him joyfully. "You look so well."

"I thought you wouldn't come," Will confided in a low tone. A stubbornness overcome Charlotte's gaze.

Frederick watched through the glass and frowned as her demeanour changed. There she was again. Being brave. Being strong.

"Of course I would," she said firmly. "Will of course I am here."

She reached forward and touched Will's hand but jumped back when the orderly banged on the glass.

"No touching," Will muttered and she nodded with an irritated blush.

"How are you feeling?" Charlotte asked quietly. She glanced her three companions waiting outside and Will followed her gaze.

"Better," he replied honestly. "Clearer. How have you been?"

"Smothered," she replied frankly. "Especially by Jack."

"Jack?" Will asked with bemusement. She chuckled lightly and nodded as she tucked some stray hair behind her ear.

"He feels so guilty," she muttered. "Which he should. He absolutely should. He sends Hannibal to check on me a lot. Frederick is a good doctor, but all the worry is so overwhelming."

Will nodded slowly to her account.

"I shouldn't complain though, I've faced worse," she said with a glum smile and Will returned the flickering mirthless gesture.

"I wouldn't be mad if this was too much for you," Will told her quietly. "If you felt like you needed to start fresh and-"

She raised a hand to silence him.

"I don't want to go anywhere," she said firmly. "I want you Will. You couldn't have killed those girls even if your fever had gotten to_ 205_ degrees."

Will nodded slowly and she took a deep inhale. She fidgeted for a moment before pulling a small picture from her pocket and pressed it to her chest.

"I have something to show you," she murmured quietly. Will waited patiently, interest sparked in him.

"Don't be mad," she uttered anxiously. "And before I tell you I need you to know this isn't influencing me. I believe you're innocent Will because I've seen monsters of men and that's not you. I just know that in my heart you couldn't of... done it."

"I believe you," Will murmured quietly. "I do."

She nodded very solemnly and finally slid the picture across to Will. He lifted it and glanced across it as soft confusion clouded his features. It was a grainy, black and white photo of what appeared to be nothing more than a small blip. Suddenly however it struck him like a bolt of lightening.

"Your-"

"Yes," she said with a hesitant smile. She watched him view her ultrasound photo in pure shock.

"How long-"

"Ten weeks," she interrupted with excitement. She knotted her fingers together and rested her elbows on the table.

"Ten?" Will asked and she nodded animatedly.

"It has finger nails," she said. Will glanced up with confusion. "Our baby. It has finger nails."

Will blinked a few times more and further examined the photo. The news hit several strong emotions in him. This made Charlotte desperately vulnerable to Hannibal Lecter, but perhaps Lecter would feel he had some twisted duty to protect Will's child. Evidence was built strongly against Will but he had a good lawyer and he wasn't sure Hannibal would simply let him die for something he hadn't done. That felt banal and Hannibal Lecter was anything but banal.

"I wanted to say something earlier," Charlotte anxiously interrupted Will's concerned thoughts. "But you were so sick. I didn't want to burden you."

"It's not a burden," Will replied quickly. His response caused her to beam brightly and press her knuckles to her lips.

"Our baby," she whispered quietly. "It's head is so big."

"It's supposed to be," Will chuckled. She smiled with subtle delight at his happiness.

"I know it's just a grainy picture," she whispered with soft embarrassment. "But I have never loved anything as much as I love this baby. It's not even really a baby yet. It's more like an idea of a baby. I love it Will I'm so-"

She looked up to see him still staring at the picture with staggered shock.

"I'm rambling," she murmured anxiously. "I'm sorry."

He glanced up and shook his head with a vague smile.

"It's beautiful," he told her. He fell a little more in love with her as a soft flush took her face.

"I know," she murmured. "It's going to speak French."

Will chuckled and examined the photo for a moment longer.

"Do they all know?" he asked throwing a gaze to the three authority figures standing outside their glass room.

She nodded. "Everyone has been very helpful," she mused. "But I'm so relieved you're happy."

"I'm sorry I'm here," Will said but she shook her head.

"Imagine we are at home," Charlotte whispered. "That's what I'm doing."

Will and Charlotte had spoken for sometime longer about the particulars of pregnancy till the orderly told them their time was up. Charlotte had nodded politely, stood slowly, but dashed across the table and chastely kissed Will before the orderly caught her arm and dragged her back.

"I love you," she mouthed as a mischievous grin took her face. He'd smiled and watched her move away with the three men who all held his life in their hands.

Hannibal noticed how buoyant Charlotte was immediately after her meeting with Will. The dark shadows that hunted her were no match to the joy Will Graham brought. Hannibal watched as she spoke hurriedly with an irritated Frederick Chilton as they exited the hospital.

"You shouldn't have kissed him," Frederick scolded.

"I know," she said bashfully. "But he was happy Frederick. He's so happy."

Hannibal had noted she had an exceedingly close relationship with Doctor Chilton. He'd been her therapist for two and half years and Charlotte had recently confided in Hannibal that she felt that Frederick was more '_rock than psychiatrist_'.

Frederick clearly liked Charlotte because she made him feel like a good doctor. It obviously helped that Charlotte herself was quite likeable but Hannibal had been slightly surprised by how two way the agreeableness was. They had an odd teasing short hand that interested Hannibal. Frederick didn't seem to be a man who could take a joke about himself but when Charlotte had teased him gently for shaving his beard away and '_shaking off that mountain man look_' he'd simply given her a sarcastic gaze and a smug smile. Hannibal had originally believed Charlotte's liking of Frederick was due to the fact English was her second language and she missed the snideness to his words. On further inspection Hannibal reasoned that that may have been the _exact_ reason she liked Frederick so much. He'd seen her, all of her, her scars and her dark shadows, and Frederick Chilton still liked her on a human level. He laughed at her jokes, smiled at her teasing, and worried about her health. It validated her more than anything else in the world.

Charlotte's overjoyed behaviour that Will had reacted so positively boded well for Hannibal. She'd even been nice to Jack as they'd bid their goodbyes while she'd slid in to Hannibal's car.

He'd taken to driving her nearly everywhere. He noticed that if it were just the two of them and the situation was commonplace she'd often let small pieces of information slip. She was usually so guarded and careful but once in a while, when a black mood dragged her down she'd tell him some horrific fact from her childhood, or some horrible nightmare she'd had the night previous. Hannibal always silently added them to his collection of facts about her.

Hannibal wasn't entirely sure if Charlotte believed Will was innocent. He couldn't decide if she was sincere in her convictions or if it was because she couldn't face anymore tragedy. Either one of those options didn't make her any less steadfast on her beliefs. She'd often lectured Hannibal that it simply had to be someone else, that Will had gotten '_too close_'; and '_yes he'd gotten burnt_', she'd admit that, but she knew he '_wasn't a killer_'. Hannibal had nodded in agreement and soothed her when she'd spoke furiously about what she believed to be a _'disgusting misstep by Jack Crawford'._

He'd been insidious in his insertion in to her life. He noticed with vicious pleasure that she allowed him to take control of nearly every situation. The highlight had been when he'd taken her to her Obstetrician appointment and she'd actually waited for his opinions before answering questions about her own pregnancy. He had also been her protection for the last month from Jack's constant questionings. Jack Crawford had insinuated in the first week of Will's arrest that she couldn't have lived in the house and not known about the murders. Hannibal had defended her. Jack soon dropped the theory but the damage had been done for Charlotte. If she had not liked Jack previously she all together hated him now.

"He tears my life apart at the seams," she had hissed one night over a casual dinner at Hannibal's home. "And then asks me if I've ever killed anyone. How dare he."

So as Hannibal drove her home he felt the tug of new opportunities as he watched Charlotte simply sit with deep contentment as her hands pressed to her stomach.

Charlotte had not been particularly vulnerable previously. Vulnerable in the way that she cared for Will but her impenetrable ability to just keep her head above water despite any adversity had been equal parts frustrating and fascinating. Finally Hannibal had something tangible in his grasp. Nothing was more fragile in the whole world than an unborn life. Hannibal considered his option in the car as they cruised easily through the Baltimore streets. What a palpable way to mould or punish Will. What a fantastic way to bring Charlotte to her knees. The little unborn Graham was Hannibal's most prized possession, filled with countless opportunities to keep him in complete control of everyone around him.

"You're happy too," Charlotte interrupted his thoughts. Hannibal glanced down at his pretty young counterpart and smiled.

"Yes Charlotte," Hannibal replied with a subtle smirk. "I'm happy too."


	11. Chapter 11

_I apologise for the break. After a long think I've decided to gloss the open of season 2 in this chapter. It covers key points but allows some insight into where the story is heading. I hope you do enjoy and I assure you the next few chapters are worth the wait. xoxo _

**Chapter Eleven**

Beverly Katz's death had shaken everyone.

It was one thing to die and another all together to be so brutally dismantled. They hadn't opened her coffin at the service and Charlotte had felt sickened to know there wasn't enough of a recognisable Beverly left to unfasten the lid.

She'd gone with Jack to break the news of Beverly Katz's murder to Will. Charlotte had felt her heartbreak at Will's grief. He'd buried his head in his hands and sobbed at the news. Angry, broken sobs of a helpless man. Doctor Chilton had allowed Charlotte to hold Will's hand across the table. She wasn't sure that the contact had comforted him but it had consoled her.

Charlotte was doing her best to stay afloat. Her pregnancy was difficult. She was working ridiculously long hours to pay for medical bills, opting to teach on the side as well as perform at private parties.

She felt isolated and alone. Her strength however came from knowing that she was ready to be a mother. No matter what terrible thing occurred Charlotte's love for her unborn child never wavered. Charlotte did what she had to do, which was concentrate solely on her unborn child.

Hannibal did the same.

His support was invaluable to Charlotte. He took total control over the medical part of her life. The lack of responsibility for her medications and doctor's appointments was greatly appreciated. Charlotte was a totally self sufficient woman except when it came to the medical world. Her English was fluent. Her mother had been part British and they'd grown up with the language in her home. It had been a large part of what helped Charlotte survive her father, a private way for them to communicate away from his control. Her shortfalls however came to technical language. Native English speakers struggled with medical language, French Charlotte felt as though the doctors were speaking in tongues.

That was where Hannibal's expertise had been worth their weight in gold. He explained everything to her clearly in French after every appointment. He reorganised his calendar to both protect and serve Charlotte and she adored him for it.

If she had liked Doctor Lecter previously, now she loved him. He was educated, charming, loving, and loyal. He'd placed his reputation on the line in Will's case to protect Will and that act had made Hannibal untouchable by sin in Charlotte's eyes. Hannibal's friendship became Charlotte's last hanging vestal of normality. He made her feel safe in a sea of uncertainty and she would never be able to thank him enough.

The month since Charlotte's first visit with Will had been very simple. She visited Will, kept his spirits up, took her prenatal vitamins, and worked.

Alana Bloom was kind enough to allow Charlotte from time to time to go on long expansive walks with Will's dogs. Charlotte would disappear into the backwoods of Alana's home for hours at a time and Alana was polite enough never to ask how she was.

A lot of Charlotte's dislike and jealousy of Alana Bloom subsided as Will's trial dragged through. The woman was brave and fierce in her protection of Will and Charlotte felt tugs of gratitude to see at least one person in her beloved's corner. She had seen Alana on many occasions stop Jack as he attempted to question Charlotte on things she had nothing to do with.

However after the trail ground to a halt at the judges murder, and Beverly's unfortunate end Charlotte's contact had grown sparse with Jack. His theories relied less and less upon her until eventually, as the month wore on, Charlotte's contact with Jack Crawford or the FBI became virtually non existent.

So when Charlotte spotted Alana and Jack stalking about the drinks of a charity performance she was working at, dodging between guests, she'd felt a sickening dread climb across her.

Charlotte approached them both with an air of confidence that she refused to shake.

Alana found that admirable about Charlotte. Charlotte approached them still dipped in her finery, still in her grand stage costume, looking somewhere between the queen of the night and a forrest nymph. There was something about the way the petite woman held herself that made Alana slightly uncomfortable. She never felt intimidated, not by killers or psychopaths, but something about the way Charlotte held herself with such assurance that made Alana unsure. Jack held the same belief. They'd spoken about it on the drive up to Charlotte's charity show at the Baltimore Art Society fundraiser.

Charlotte approached them with an amicable smile but Jack saw the suspicion in her eyes.

"Doctor Bloom, Agent Crawford," Charlotte greeted in a warm tone. "I did not know either of you were aficionados of the Opera or Art."

Jack gave Charlotte a taught smile.

"We have to discuss something with you," he said in a low tone. "Would there be somewhere private to do this?"

Charlotte nodded and lead the pair away to an adjoining corridor. The sound of the party was blotted as the heavy oak doors closed behind them. Jack glanced at the long corridor full of beautiful paintings before landing a heavy gaze on Charlotte.

He waited for her to speak but she stayed silent, a purse to her lips, and a glare in her gaze.

"Miss Claude, Doctor Lecter has been attacked," Jack said bluntly. Charlotte blanched at Hannibal's name.

Every horrific eventuality filled Charlotte's mind as she thought helplessly of what could have happened to her single pillar of support.

"He's fine," Alana Bloom quickly interrupted when she saw the horror snatch Charlotte's face. "He was injured but we were able to intervene before any permanent damage was done. He's already been discharged from hospital, just a few stitches and treatment for shock."

"Who attacked him?" Charlotte asked numbly.

"An orderly from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane," Jack said calmly. "Matthew Brown."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Charlotte asked with a soft flutter of her lashes.

"Because Will Graham asked him to," Jack said curtly.

Charlotte's concern melted in the face of her anger. There was a very tense moment as Charlotte's jaw set and her eyes gleamed wrath.

"Why are you telling me this?" Charlotte asked in a deathly soft voice.

"We were wondering if Will had said anything about this to you," Alana asked as she attempted to sound kind. She was trying to be empathetic but Charlotte had no patience for it.

"Why would he?" Charlotte asked with the same deadly calmness.

"Because you two talk a lot," Jack said. "You're his partner. You're having his baby."

"You think because an unwell Will asked a random orderly to kill Hannibal that it's _his_ fault?" Charlotte asked through gritted teeth.

"Will did ask him-"

"From his prison cell?" Charlotte laughed bitterly. "From his prison cell you'll award him responsibility?"

Alana and Jack silenced at that comment. She gave them a derisive look.

"You two need to find another scapegoat," Charlotte said with disdain. "He's so sick and you two made him that way. Now you don't want to name your monster yours? You loved him Jack when he was chasing killers and destroying himself, but now that he is a shadow you turn on him just like everyone else."

Alana took a small step forward, a hardness set across her features.

"Charlotte," Alana said reproachfully. "Will is lucid enough-"

"Don't you dare," Charlotte interrupted so coldly Alana felt she might freeze to death. "I am not going to be lectured by you Alana Bloom when you see yourself as a champion for his health, but you are just as guilty in his fall."

Alana found those words wounding.

"I am so afraid that I will have to raise our child alone," Charlotte told them both as a glitter of hatred rushed her brown eyes. "But you come here and try to drag the shadow over me?"

"We need information-"

"I am at work," Charlotte snapped with finality. "I will speak to you at the B.A.U. Jack but I will not speak to you here."

"We need to discuss it now," Jack said bluntly. "Did Will tell you what he was planning?"

"No," Charlotte said coldly. "Now Agent Crawford, I feel you have humiliated me enough of late. Was it not enough that I had to vomit on my knees in your office? Would you wish me to be arrested and dragged out in front of every colleague and friend that I have?"

Jack wished to argue but Alana placed a hand on his arm.

Charlotte was right. It had been uncouth to come and interrogate her at work. It hadn't been professional or responsible and as they left Alana felt an uncomfortable amount of guilt in knowing they'd once again dragged Charlotte down in to something that did not concern her.

Charlotte had watched them leave from across the party with an unreasonable guilt sitting on her chest. Her worry for Hannibal did not dissipate for the rest of the evening. Charlotte had tossed and turned all night. At 6 am she finally gave up on her dream of a nights rest and trudged hopelessly across her Baltimore home. She decided to do what her grandmama always did in times of great emotionally distress.

She made soup.

Charlotte made a hearty soup of vegetable and chicken dumplings. Austrian in origin but familiar by taste Charlotte crafted her grandmama's almost famous soup to perfection before finally building to courage to visit her injured friend.

She'd called ahead of course and Hannibal offered for her to visit after her prenatal check at the hospital.

She blushed and thanked him, feeling more than a little embarrassed she'd forgotten. She promised to visit him by twelve and he'd pleasantly told her he was looking forward to it.

The check had gone as expected. Everything was fine, the baby was well, her HCG scores were still very high, and her vomiting wasn't going to stop.

She'd seen the heartbeat of her baby during the scan and her heart had leap in joy.

By lunch Charlotte's mood was significantly improved. She'd arrived at Hannibal's home with soup in hand and a beam pressed to her face.

She'd embraced him warmly, tutted softly at the bruising on his neck and the bandages on his wrists, and told him she was so thankful he was ok.

He allowed her to set up camp in his Kitchen and he watched as she carefully heated the broth in a large pan over his cooktop.

"My Grandmama's recipe," Charlotte told him as she ladled some into a bowl for him.

A warm winter sun bathed his kitchen and he watched her move with ease. She was so relaxed with him. All pretence of the self assured, violently confident young woman melted away and she stood bare with nothing but adoration and calm.

"Were you close?" he asked as she passed him his soup.

"She's the reason I sing opera," Charlotte hummed. "She payed for my place at the Royal Academy of Music in London. She said there should be some legacy to the Claude name that wasn't ugly... but I think it was mostly to do with the fact I was a tearaway and she knew that Opera would settle me."

"She sounds like a wise woman," Hannibal said as he took a sip. Hannibal was rarely one to enjoy the cooking of others but he was pleasantly surprised at how good the soup was. Charlotte smiled to see the pleasure on his face.

"My Grandmama said to me," Charlotte said with a small chuckle. "That this soup could heal more than the pope ever could."

Hannibal chuckled at that too.

"Alana Bloom called to tell me that last night you were questioned about my attack," Hannibal said calmly.

Charlotte bristled but attempted to look nonplused.

"Jack Crawford," Charlotte uttered darkly. "Like a dog chasing cars, who knows what he'll do when he actually catches one."

"Jack Crawford catches a lot of killers," Hannibal replied.

"Not the Chesapeake Ripper," Charlotte muttered.

A small smirk graced Hannibal's lips.

"No not _that_ one I suppose."

"I'm so sorry that Will did this," Charlotte whispered as she glanced up with pain. "I am. Hannibal my heart breaks."

"Did he tell you he would?"

Charlotte shook her head. Hannibal had half expected her to be defensive, or at least offended. However he could see in her an exhaustion that stole her ability to feel away from her.

"I feel like sometimes I have sailed to the edge of the world," Charlotte told him softly as though it were a secret that only the two of them could keep. "And I feel like you're the last thing that stops me sailing off the edge."

Hannibal smiled gently at her and placed his hand over hers on the kitchen counter.

They finished her soup before deciding to sit in the lounge for a while. He'd allowed Charlotte to gently examine his stitches along his wrist. She compared his wound to hers, commenting lightly on how it made her feel strangely connected to him.

Hannibal had told her that she was starting to show. She'd blushed and smiled timidly before she confessed to him all about her morning sickness and even the names she was thinking of. Hannibal had given her new medication for her new trimester and she'd taken it unquestioningly. He'd excused her with a lie that he had to see a patient. She'd believed him and held him close before she left. She whispered in his ear that she would thank God he was safe and spared before apologising on Will's behalf.

"If he was lucid enough," Charlotte whispered sadly. "He'd be so devastated to think he'd hurt you."

Hannibal had simply kissed her forehead and sent her on her way.

He however did not see a patient. Hannibal Lecter chose to pay the BSHCI a visit.

Hannibal had considered Charlotte at length as he drove to confront his friend and enemy.

He was utterly insidious in his invasion of Charlotte's life. For the month that followed her first meeting with Will he allowed Charlotte to cling to him for support.

He saw her desperate grab for some sort of stability and he stole it. It was as though she was falling. She had admitted that to him over one of their many casual dinners. She was having violent nightmares again. One nightmare was that she was simply falling through black silk sheets and every time she reached out to grab something she fell faster.

She told Hannibal with a bitter laugh that she was sure that her nightmares probably meant something but that of late she had no time for reason.

Hannibal saw her desperate outreach for help go unattended repeatedly. She wasn't willing to be public just yet on her pregnancy so it left her with very few confidants. Mrs. Komeda had been told. She taken control of Charlotte's work life which was desperately appreciated. She dropped Charlotte's rent and helped with hospital bills.

Despite all the tragedy Charlotte was truly ready to be a mother. She was so excitable that Hannibal found her enjoyment infectious. As someone who adored both sides of the coin that was life and death, to have her stood in front of him a vessel of life while he shaped Will in to an agent of death was intoxicating.

Hannibal kept those thoughts in mind as he walked towards the caged Will.

Will Graham looked equal parts disappointed and contemptuous that Hannibal Lecter had chosen to pay him a visit.

He'd greeted him starkly as a cold glitter of hatred radiated in his blue eyes.

"Hello Doctor Lecter," Will said softly. He annunciated Hannibal's name in a way that sounded as though it burnt his mouth.

"Hello Will," Hannibal replied calmly. He sat casually in front of the young man whose fate lay in his hands. "How have you been?"

"I've been just fine," Will said softly, a smirk crossing his mouth. "How have you been Doctor Lecter?"

"You tried to kill me Will," Hannibal stated bluntly.

"I didn't," Will said with a small twitch of a smile. "Matthew Brown did."

"At your orders," Hannibal repeated with equal calm.

"Nothing personal."

Hannibal sighed softly.

"You tried to kill me Will," Hannibal repeated with a soft frown. "It's hard not to take that personally."

"You can't kill smoke," Will said quoting Gideon.

Hannibal considered Will's point a long while before responding.

"All actions have consequences," Hannibal said detachedly. "Considering how vulnerable Charlotte is I'm surprised you'd do something so emotionally traumatising to her."

Will's snideness disappeared at the sound of her name. He stared blankly, a trickled dread crawling up his spine.

"There is strong research that proves the safety of an unborn child can be directly matched to the emotional wellbeing of the mother," Hannibal continued. "You should think how your actions will effect her before you do something so reckless in future."

Hannibal stood and left at that affectation, leaving Will reeling in the crushing agony that the truth often brings.

Doctor Lecter left Will Graham with the knowledge that he'd risked all and lost.

Charlotte was no longer safe and there was nothing he could do to save her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Prepare yourselves for a sad one. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to review and read. Thanks for enduring the unfortunately necessary dryness of the last chapter and please enjoy the newest chapter. xoxo _

**Chapter 12**

Charlotte awoke on Saturday once again to violent morning sickness.

Her eyes were barely open as the bile begun to climb up her throat. She scrambled quickly, tumbled out of her sheets, and reached the bathroom with not a moment to spare. She'd allowed herself to pant against the cold toilet bowl. She only allowed herself five minutes of self pity per day and she usually indulged it alongside her nausea. Her morning sickness had progressively gotten worse all week since Hannibal's attack. At her last Doctor's visit a week ago they'd commented her oestrogen levels were high. It had meant nothing to her as Hannibal wasn't there to do his usual translations. She'd accepted the news and continued on with her vitamins and her sleeplessness.

She wanted to ask Hannibal what that all meant but he was avoiding her. Since their lunch he'd ignored calls, missed appointments, and canceled dates.

She'd gone to walk Will's dogs at Alana Bloom's home only to met by a coldness from Alana she'd never experienced before.

Charlotte realised that Alana and Hannibal were freezing out Will and that unfortunately meant she would be sacrificed too. She'd been invited to Hannibal's dinner party that saturday but it felt like an empty gesture. It was silently accepted that she was the collateral damage of Will's actions. Charlotte attended anyway, hoping to prove that she could be forgiving in the face of Hannibal and Alana's aloofness.

Charlotte arrived at Hannibal's grand manor at nine pm. She was desperately irritated that she was so late but her vomiting had caused her tardiness. Her usual pregnancy nausea had been ridiculously violent all day. Morning sickness was no longer saved for mornings. She felt as though she was retching on the hour, every hour.

Charlotte was offered food as she walked in to Hannibal's grand soiree but she'd winced at the sight of it.

"Good evening Miss Claude," a familiar voice interrupted. She glanced up to see an agitated Frederick Chilton hovering beside her.

"Hello," she mumbled softly. His agitation faded to concern as he saw the green hue that tinted Charlotte's cheeks.

"You look a mess," Frederick stated in his usual candour that Charlotte enjoyed so much. She couldn't help but smile.

"I feel _terrible_," she confessed. "Oh Lord, Frederick I haven't stopped being sick _all_ day, I can't hold a thing down. I have no idea what to do."

"Nausea can be aggravated by stress. During your 15th week of pregnancy it can be aggravated by leg and back pain, as well as the new pressure on your stomach from the increased size of your womb," Chilton told her clinically. She nodded softly and sighed.

"How are you Freddie?"

She rarely called him by his nickname, especially considering he was her psychiatrist but considering how frayed his nerves were her endearment soothed him. He smiled down at her and shrugged.

"Stressed," he said honestly. "I don't really want to be here."

"Me neither," she admitted with a long exhale. "But I want to prove to Hannibal that I'm sorry that Will did what he did… and that I won't turn my back on our friendship for it."

Chilton glanced up to see both Alana and Hannibal levelling a cool gaze at the pair of them.

"How's that plan coming along?" he asked with a wry chuckle.

She glanced up to see the two of them look away with bored disdain.

"Poorly," she answered with a frown.

Chilton chuckled at her honestly and offered her a seat, gesturing to a near by sofa.

"Between my cane and that swollen belly of yours," he muttered as they both sat. "I wouldn't say standing is much of an activity for either of us anymore."

She chuckled and nodded. They were momentarily interrupted by a waiter. Chilton snatched a glass of wine and waved them away. He turned a glance back at her to see the same unpleasant green tinge still pressed against her nose.

"How is being pregnant Charlotte?" Frederick asked with a true sincerity that rarely came from his mouth.

"Terrible," she answered as her shoulders sagged. "My back hurts and my ankles are fat."

"Your ankles?" Chilton asked with a small laugh.

"Yes," she said with a pout. "I used to have beautiful ankles."

"I used to have a kidney," Frederick said churlishly as he took a sip of his wine.

She glanced him with a shake of her head.

"It's not a competition Frederick," she snapped with a roll of her eyes and he chuckled once more.

Hannibal watched carefully from across his living room as his two guests laughed on his sofa. Charlotte certainly looked very unwell. Hannibal noted her green tinge and her bleary eyes with a small amount of satisfaction. His satisfaction only grew when he saw her excuse herself momentarily to swallow more of the prenatal vitamins he'd given her. Hannibal strolled easily to the pair of them and couldn't help but internally smirk at their reactions. Charlotte turned a timid, hopeful look to him while Frederick seemed strained. Chilton's tense fear only served to entertain Hannibal further.

"Good evening Charlotte," Hannibal said aloofly. "Thank you for making an appearance."

"I'm sorry I was late, but… the baby… sickness…" she trailed off with a blush.

"You look unwell," Hannibal commented formally. "I must attend to the rest of my guests. Good evening Charlotte, Doctor Chilton."

He dipped his head at the pair and Charlotte had felt her heart sink at his coolness.

Charlotte hadn't stayed for much longer.

"I just want to go home," she told Frederick as he walked her out to her car.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" he offered carefully. "I wouldn't mind. You look terrible."

"No thank you," she said as they reached her car. "Go back. Enjoy the party."

"It isn't much of a party," Frederick said with a soft sneer.

"No," Charlotte sighed in agreement. "Not much of a party at all, but your wonderful company always lifts my heart Freddie. Thank you for unburdening me."

"It is always a pleasure," Frederick told her sincerely. "Please come to your next appointment."

There was a slight discomfort in the silence that curved between them. She'd been purposefully rescheduling her appointments because she wasn't ready to confront the current turmoils of her life.

"Next week," Charlotte finally promised. She kissed his cheek softly and smiled once more.

"Have a fantastic night Freddie," she told him with a flash of a smile as she climbed in to her car.

"Feel better Charlotte."

She drove away and Frederick watched her with a sinking dread he could not name.

Charlotte felt her illness worsen as she drove. The small bumps that always occurred in her car caused havoc with her stomach. Nausea climbed up her neck as she drove the short ten minutes home. Charlotte thought for a fleeting moment her illness had passed but just as she pulled up on her street bile pushed up her throat. She flung her door open and was sick on the asphalt beneath.

She took a few steady inhales before she dragged herself from the car. Charlotte walked shakily to the front of her home and took a long moment to unlock the door. Her stomach ached fiercely as she stumbled through her front door and dropped her phone and keys. She doubled over the moment her feet were out of her high heels. Sharp pain shot through her abdomen and her mouth dropped open in agony. She took in a sharp breath and waited for a moment. Cold perspiration begun to cling to her skin and she splayed a hand to the wall to keep her balance. She pushed the folds of her dress away and gingerly placed her fingers to her underwear. Horror begun to spread down her as she felt the unmistakable hot stickiness of blood meet her finger tips.

Panic set in.

She scrambled for her phone and called Hannibal several times but was ignored. She tried Alana once but was met with nothing. She couldn't think of anyone else and in such dismay she simply called a taxi and begged they come to her home and take her to John Hopkins Hospital immediately. The taxi had arrived quickly and Charlotte had scrambled in to it. The driver's eyes had widened in alarm at how she looked. She was pale, trembling, and perspiring. He'd asked if she was okay and all Charlotte could do was shake her head and utter "_John Hopkins please_."

She presented at Emergency and waited an anxious fifteen minutes till finally a doctor was free to see her. The young, strawberry blonde man poked and prodded Charlotte through her paper-thin blue hospital gown and frowned softly.

"Miss Claude," he asked. "Have you felt absolutely any movement from your baby?"

She deftly shook her head and allowed them to test her, poke her, and scan her.

The doctor simple shook his head sadly at the blurry black and white ultrasound in front of him and Charlotte had swallowed her agony as she anticipated his words.

"I'm sorry Miss Claude," he told her gently. "Your baby's heart has stopped. We can find no sign of life. I'm sorry."

She was catatonic as the words cut through her.

"It's gone?" she whispered. How could that be? A week ago the baby's heart had been on the screen, beating. It's little fingers had been wrapped around the umbilical chord. It had looked so peaceful and so healthy…

"My diagnosis is a miscarriage," he continued softly. "At 15 weeks, given the bleeding you're having, it's classed as an incomplete miscarriage."

"Incomplete?" Charlotte asked almost soundlessly. Her tone was raw and the doctor hid his frown.

She looked so vulnerable and alone.

"The tissue isn't passing properly," he told her. "Usually we would allow it to happen naturally as to avoid heavy bleeding but given your situation I would like to prescribe an oral dosage of Misoprostol."

"There's nothing you can do is there" Charlotte whispered brokenly.

"No," he told her softly. "We can't. Once it starts we can only manage. I'm so sorry Miss Claude."

Charlotte nodded and finally looked away.

"Ok," she whispered weakly.

He nodded and prescribed her heavy dose of Misoprostol. She took it and waited. She waited and bleed. Charlotte hadn't felt anything. She hadn't felt pain or suffering or grief. Charlotte felt as though she was in a vacuum of complete nothingness. Several worried nurses asked if she needed anything. Charlotte could see the pity and sympathy shine in their eyes. She was foreign, tiny, and unwell, and she could see how pathetic she must look to them all. They offered to turn on the television, to bring magazines or food, or to simply wait with her. She turned them all away with deft shakes of her head.

It was four am when the bleeding finally stemmed and she was allowed to move. A nurse once again gently asked if Charlotte needed anything but she shook her head.

As the question swirled in her mind Charlotte reasoned that there was in fact one thing she was in desperate need of.

A cigarette.

She'd stole out of the hospital quickly and quietly. The freezing night air itched her skin as she hurried barefoot across the road to a local seven eleven. Charlotte caught a glance of herself in the CCTV. She grimaced at her wan, drawn face, and the crinkled blue gown curled about her. She bought a packet of Kings cigarettes and a lighter before she walked aimlessly back to the hospital.

She sat on the curb outside of John Hopkins and smoked.

Charlotte lavished in every single drag of the thin stick as it filled her lungs.

She hadn't smoked since she was just shy of her nineteenth birthday and living in London. If her memory served her correctly she was living with a thirty-something year old art dealer named… David… Daniel… something…

He'd had ratty facial hair but a luxurious lifestyle. She'd consisted off of a diet of practically nothing but vodka mixers and cigarettes for nearly six months. That was until her Grandmama had put her foot down and sent her to Opera school. Although at the time Charlotte had thrown a huge hissy fit she'd truthfully been relieved by her grandmama's intervention. Daniel… David… Whatever his face… he had a precocious coke habit that Charlotte had little patience for in the end.

Charlotte bitterly chuckled to herself that this was probably the first cigarette she'd ever actually paid for.

Her mind swirled in her lifetime lost in a desperate attempt to hide from the tidal wave of grief roaring towards her.

She remembered names of flings, or at least tried to. She remembered being a wild child, dancing at clubs that didn't have names till her toes literally bleed. She remembered feeling like she could run forever. She remembered the seven months in which she made everyone she knew call her 'coco'. She remembered her academy days, her college friends, and the shitty dorm she'd lived in for that six months till she found another rich art dealer to shack up with. He was boring, had an aversion to drugs, and his building had an indoor swimming pool so at the time she definitely felt she'd made some real improvements.

She remembered her first year or so in New York and how much she loved the buzz of that city.

She remembered how shallow she'd been and she lamented softly that she would give anything to be that shallow and that detached once more. Love had brought her nothing but pain. It hadn't offered a pinch of the normality she longed for. She inhaled once more from the cigarette.

Smoking was so pedestrian, so bourgeoisie, and for a moment Charlotte allowed herself to love it.

She wondered what smoking would do to her Opera career but the thought was diminished quickly. She didn't care about that now. She didn't care about anything.

The only god damn thing she cared about in the whole world had just been torn from her body. Her body had betrayed her and she had failed Will. She'd failed herself. She'd failed her unborn child. She just wished to be exactly like the cigarette that she held in her fingers. She wanted to burn up and disappear in to ash never to be seen again.

"Is that Charlotte Claude?"

The American voice floated over her ears but she didn't bother to look up.

"Wait_ that's _Graham's girlfriend?" another American voice interrupted. "Oh my god, she's _beautiful_! Wow! I imagined some ugly bookish type. Well… not _necessarily_ ugly. More plain-"

"Why is she here?" the first voice interrupted the seconds musings. She finally glanced up as she heard their footsteps approach.

Brian Zeller stood a few feet away from her, beside him was a man she didn't recognise. The second man viewed her with small wonder. It was the way one looks at something they don't quiet believe is real. If her heart wasn't broken she would have laughed but instead she simply blinked at them.

"Miss Claude?" Zeller begun carefully. "Are you ok?"

She said nothing and simply inhaled once more from her cigarette.

She was disheveled. Her hair swirled wildly about her head and her eye makeup was smeared in to black circles that pooled about her eyes. Her ankle and wrist both had a tight plastic bracelets with her name and birthdate scrawled on to the paper inserts. A blue, thin gown tented her thin, pale body and Brian hesitated for a moment longer.

"Zeller, Price!" A familiar booming voice interrupted. "What's the hold up? Let's go!"

The two men parted and Charlotte glanced up to see a tired Jack stood behind them.

His face fell when he saw her.

"Jack," Zeller tried to explain as he walked forward. "I just found her but-"

"Wait in the car," Jack interrupted. Zeller seemed to think of something to argue but Price nodded sharply and led Brian away.

Jack viewed her for a long moment. She shivered like a leaf in the breeze in her paper thin gown and he frowned. He sat beside her carefully. He made sure not to startle her, like she was some wounded animal, and Charlotte felt a tinge of resentment for it.

He said nothing. They said nothing for a long moment until finally Charlotte offered him a cigarette. To her surprise he took it. She snuffed hers and started afresh, quickly lighting both hers and Jack's.

They both inhaled and exhaled for a long moment. Neither said anything in the cold but comfortable silence, opting instead to watch the twirling smoke dance in front of their eyes.

"There was a murder," Jack said casually after a long while. "We are investigating."

She nodded softly and continued her calming ritual.

The unasked question hung over the two as they continued their smoke.

_… __and why are you here charlotte?… _

She allowed the uncomfortable silence to awash them as Jack's gaze bore against her pale skin.

She said nothing for a long while. Jack noticed her shiver and slipped his coat off and over her shoulders without being asked. She didn't flinch or move. She allowed the heavy woollen coat to warm her freezing skin and she exhaled one last time as her cigarette once again burned out.

"_It's gone_," she finally said.

Jack nodded softly and edged slightly closer to her.

"Do they know why?" he asked cautiously.

She shook her head and continued to gaze blankly at the black road in front of them.

"Sometimes it happens," she said, quoting the doctor verbatim.

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly. He sounded so sincere and Charlotte's resentment of him washed away for a moment.

"Thank you," she breathed almost silently and lit herself a new cigarette.

He watched her trembling hand bring it to her lips and frowned gently as se took a shaken inhale.

"If there's anything I can do…"

She shook her head and exhaled in to the air above her as she threw her head back. Jack watched her cool exterior crumble as the grief settled across her like a storm.

Like every storm it started with a small drizzle. He watched a small tear drag down her face. Jack found himself feeling guilt at his surprise that she actually knew how to cry. The tears soon fell hot and fast down her cheeks and she continued to delicately smoke beside him.

Finally her hands shook so hard she could no longer hold her cigarette and she dropped it in front of her. It fizzled against the freezing road as she bit her lip and allowed the grief to consume her.

She didn't sob, or scream, or rack with pain. She simply cried soundlessly and stilly beside Jack. Her pain was so raw, so visceral, and Jack felt wounded by her grief.

Of course they'd had their differences but now after viewing his most recent crime scene he knew she'd been right about Will. He knew now that Will couldn't have committed those murders and this should have been the happiest night of her life but instead she was sobbing on a curb because she'd lost her baby.

Unthinkingly he wrapped an arm about her. She leant gingerly in to him as she continued to cry endlessly.

"_It is never fair_," she whispered in a hot, pained voice.

Jack nodded and closed his eyes.

"It isn't," he agreed and she wiped her never ending tears away from her cheeks.

"I wanted _one_ thing Jack," she whispered. "_One thing_."

"I know," he said and a soft sob pushed past her lips.

Their sorry was unsaid. His kindness was all the apology she needed.

She sobbed harder till finally she had nothing left to give. He watched her pull herself together slowly in front of him.

She peaked up at him with an embarrassed gaze and he smiled sadly but kindly down at his usual nuisance.

"If there's anything I can do," he told her gently.

Charlotte simply shook her head once more. She stood and handed him his coat. He took it from her, knowing it would be patronising to tell her to keep it. He watched her take each trembling step back in to the hospital form his place on the curb.

Any anger he'd ever held for her evaporated when faced with her vulnerability.

He hadn't protected her like he had promised Will. Jack felt like her loss couldn't have been an accident and he felt a sickening worry that perhaps her child had been stolen from her, and it had been his fault.

Jack made a promise then and there as she disappeared back in to the imposing building. If he couldn't save her unborn child, then he could at least protect her beloved Will.

Jack would do everything in his power to save Will Graham.

He would do everything in his power to protect Charlotte Claude.

No matter what the cost or the consequence, he wouldn't let her down again.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, I am touched! Thank you to anyone who keeps reading and I hope you continue to enjoy the stories. Much love xoxo _

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN **

Charlotte hadn't been there the morning Will was released from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Will was unsurprised by that. He knew she wouldn't forgive him for what he'd done to Hannibal. Her loyalty lay there now and Will Graham took that fact as a hollow victory. He'd lost her but at least he hadn't harmed her. No one had spoken of her to him and he took no news as good news.

Jack had greeted Will to his surprise only to realise it wasn't from friendship but instead for F.B.I. matters. They'd found miriam lass by some miracle. Will had to admit that that was incredible. Jack hadn't mentioned Charlotte at all and once again Will didn't want to ask. He didn't want to hear that she was well. He didn't want to once again hear how good Hannibal was to her. He just wanted to go home.

He'd been greeted by his pack. The dogs lapped his face and Will's brilliant smile had only faded slightly at the sight of Alana Bloom.

"Welcome home," she called as she casually strolled from the porch, her hands buried in her blue coat's pockets.

"Thank you for looking after them, they seem happy," Will said with a bright smile as he roughly patted an unrecognisable dog. "Who's this?"

"Applesauce," Alana said as she leashed the animal. "She's mine… she likes Applesauce. I rescued her."

"You're picking up some of my bad habits," Will teased distractedly as he continued to pat his adoring pets.

"Picking up your good habits," she corrected with the same evenness. Will stood. "You challenged my whole framework of assumptions about the way you are. The way I think you were."

Will was cool in the face of her blatant confrontation.

"Oh," Will said calmly. She could see the vexation in his gaze. "The way you think I am. It isn't always a reliable guide to who I am."

He flashed an irritated smile. Will chuckled but Alana's coldness was unflinching.

"I was wrong about you," she finally said.

"Because you didn't believe me?" Will coaxed with a disdainful smile. "Because you made me question my sanity? My sense of reality?"

"You tried to kill Hannibal," she interrupted bluntly. His smile fell and he stood back slightly. The dogs still excitedly swarmed around his legs. "Your wrong about him Will."

"No, _your_ wrong about him Alana," Will said bitterly. There was a pleading in his eyes to be believed. "You see the best in him. I… _don't_."

Will dropped back down to pat his dogs, desperate for some kind of distraction. Hannibal had taken Alana _and_ Charlotte and he didn't want to face his stretching loneliness just yet. Alana however was not ready to drop her point.

"What was done to you," she continued in a cold, profession tone. "Does not excuse what you did. Are you going to try to hurt him again? Is he safe?"

There was something forceful about her questioning that irked Will.

"From me?" Will asked as a nasty, bitter smile spread his lips. "Or for you?"

Alana turned an uncomfortable gaze away. Will's understanding grew and he stood with a heavy sigh.

"He's dangerous Alana" Will told her darkly. "I suggest you stay as far away from Hannibal Lecter as you can."

A tense silence radiated between them for a moment until Will finally turned his attention back to the dogs. Even though he was upset at her betrayal he wasn't quiet ready for her to leave.

"Where's Winston?" he asked, concerned at the absence of his golden haired friend.

"Inside," Alana said. He noticed a tinge of guilt reach her face. "With Charlotte."

Will's eyebrows raised in shock at her name.

"Charlotte?" Will asked with genuine surprise. "Charlotte's here?"

Alana nodded slowly. She watched Will's features brighten with a sinking realisation that his ignorance was his bliss.

"Jack didn't tell you…" Alana said softly. Her anger about his actions, his illness, and his betrayal faded in the face of knowing she would bare his bad news.

"Tell me what?" Will asked distractedly. His gaze was transfixed to the house behind Alana.

Alana's mouth opened and closed a few times and finally she averted her gaze.

"_She lost the baby Will_."

Will's heart froze at those words. He looked at her pleadingly, as though he silently begged her to be lying to him.

His eyes searched Alana's face as he tried to figure out what to ask or what to do.

"When?" he finally asked. His voice was detached and distant.

"Saturday," Alana uttered. "Last week."

Will closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.

"How is she?"

"She won't come to the door, I saw her three days ago when I came to collect Winston but she just told me to leave him," Alana admitted with an apologetic glance. "No one's seen her."

Will nodded and gritted his teeth.

"Ok," he said in a strained voice. Hannibal's threats had not been empty after all.

As he walked up to the house he caught from the corner of his eye Alana walk behind him before choosing to wait on the porch. She wanted to cut him out of her life but she knew this pain was too much to bare alone. Winston's paws had clicked down the stairs as Will entered. The dog whimpered and whined as he led his estranged owner up the wooden staircase. Will trudged the unfamiliar steps and followed the dog to a small room in the corner of the house. Will remembered with drowning sorrow that Charlotte had mentioned they should make it the nursery.

'_Because of all the natural light_,' he remembered her saying with a warm, loving smile.

He followed Winston as the dog scampered towards a figure wrapped in a blanket.

Will's heart shattered at the site of her.

Her eyes were glazed in a sparkle of dryness that made him wince. She was warn, frighteningly pale, and there was a desperate sadness that clung to her in a way that wounded him.

She didn't look up at all as he walked towards her. She was staring blankly at the wall opposite her and her eyes only met his when he gently crouched in front of her.

"Hey," he whispered softly. He tried to quash his grief but some seeped in to his greeting.

"Oh no," she breathed, her eyes fluttered and she took in a trembling breath. It sounded as though she didn't have the air in her lungs to speak. "No… oh no… no…."

"Charlotte it's me," Will tried to sooth her but she looked anguished. He saw a fevered fear in her he knew in himself only too well. Her eyes searched him frantically for a long moment and she trembled with terror. The vivid fevered chatter of what she said rung all too familiar.

"I don't want to have the dream again," she whimpered as she tightly scrunched her eyes. "Go away… I can't have it again. Go away…"

Will gently raised a hand to her shoulder.

"Charlotte?" he soothed softly. She tried her best to scramble back but she was too weak to move. He placed a hand to her forehead and felt panic as her skin sizzled beneath his palm. Her temperature was skyrocketing and he realised with dread that she thought he was a delusion.

"Please don't," Charlotte chocked. "I know you're upset but I am _so sorry._"

"I'm not upset," Will soothed as he gently held her weak form to his chest. She struggled weakly and shook her head.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. She was trembling against him and Will realised with filling alarm that she was very, very sick.

He picked her up despite her protests though she was too weak to argue. He felt her tremble in his arms.

Her words flowed between English and French. Everything she said had the same fevered, apologetic tone. Everything she said was in horror at what she had '_done_' to him. He hurried down the staircase and all his anger at Alana evaporated in the face of his panic.

"Alana," Will called as he strode out of the front door. Her head whipped back and her eyes widened in alarm at the view.

"What's happened!" Alana called in panic as she struggled through the snow towards Will. Charlotte looked like death. The peaks Alana could see of her were pale and weak. Black bruise like lines carved under Charlotte eyes and her skin was sallow.

"I don't know," Will replied sharply. "I think she has a fever."

Alana reached them and rested her fingers to Charlotte's pulse. It thundered beneath her fingers and Alana could see that Charlotte's usually bright and lively gaze was almost unseeing. Her eyes were glazed and distant. Her lips were chapped and sore. She looked dehydrated and deathly ill.

"Put her in the car," Alana said as her medical training kicked in. "We need to go to a hospital _now_."

Will sat with Charlotte in the back of the car as she shivered and trembled. She seemed almost completely unaware of what was real and what was not. Fear covered every inch of his skin. Will held Charlotte softly and tried to sooth her but she was drifting in and out of consciousness. She seemed almost utterly incomprehensible of who he actually was. A continuous flow of '_I'm sorry'_ left Charlotte's lips as she whimpered and moaned in pain.

Alana had opted to drive to John Hopkins simply because they would have Charlotte's medical notes and she would be treated faster.

The moment they arrived Charlotte had been taken from Will by a flurry of nurses and attendants and whisked away. He stood a broken man in the waiting room. Alana Bloom hesitated by his side as empathetic pain brushed across her features. He'd had to wait a few hours before he was allowed to see Charlotte. Alana had left at his request. He just wanted to be alone with Charlotte. He couldn't risk Alana funnelling any information back to Hannibal.

"Mister Graham?" a doctor finally called. Will nodded and followed the man through.

"Is she your partner?" he asked briskly as they walked through the long white corridors. Will nodded as the Doctor flicked through her patient file as they walked.

"You're aware she's had a miscarriage?" the doctor asked brashly.

"Yes," Will answered in a small voice.

"I'm only asking because your name isn't in her last admission notes," the doctor replied curtly. "She came alone. She left alone."

Those words wounded Will.

"I was out of town," Will lied. "I only got back today."

"It's a good thing you did," the Doctor said bluntly. "She's severely dehydrated and she has a bacterial infection."

"Will she be ok?" Will asked and the doctor nodded.

"Now she will," he snapped. He wasn't about to forgive Will for not being present during her last stay and Will understood. He wasn't going to forgive himself, why should anyone else?

The door opened and Will caught his first glance of her.

She was so pale. Drips lined her arms and wisps of her dirty hair clung to her perspiring forehead.

"We've given her a dilatation and curettage; it's a minor surgery," the Doctor said in a low tone. He flicked through her notes. "It will have removed any excess tissue that could be causing infection."

Will nodded detachedly.

"Also we gave her an Anti-D injection," the doctor murmured. "Are you looking to try again soon?"

Will shook his head as his eyes traced her unconscious form. "She's going to be devastated," Will said distantly. "I couldn't put her through this again."

The doctor's eyes softened at those words.

"It happens," the Doctor said gently. "Mister Graham it is common, and it is unfortunate. Her fever is caused by her infection but she's on broad-spectrum antibiotics. She should be fine. You should be able to conceive again naturally. It's more traumatic on an emotionally level than anything else."

Will nodded and averted his gaze.

"She's under a dose of general anaesthetic," the doctor said calmly. "She woke in the recovery room. She might take a moment to come around here. Be patient with her."

Will nodded and the Doctor shook his hand and left.

Will Graham took tentative steps in to her room before shutting the door quietly behind him. He leant against the door and in her moment of unconscious weakness he allowed his grief to come. Will leant his head back on the door and cried. Hot tears rushed his face and he agonised that he'd lost his unborn child.

It had brought him so much calm in prison. He'd imagine holding his child, Charlotte curled to him in their bed. He had imagined being there and holding his baby for the first time. He'd imagined the anxiety, anticipation, and joy of when the baby would finally come and holding her hand…

but he hadn't held her hand.

She'd been in the hospital all alone and she'd suffered the anguish of loosing their first child alone. She had wanted it _so_ bad. Will had seen it written all over her face when she had told him. It wasn't a burden to her. The news hadn't been tarnished by his arrest. She was absolutely heady in her dreams of motherhood.

They'd been taken.

Will's angry, silent tears streamed down his face till finally his grief was replaced with rage.

He knew Hannibal had done it. He imagined taking a gun to Hannibal's home and just killing him, here and then. He should just lodge a bullet in Hannibal's brain and rid himself and Charlotte of Hannibal Lecter's nefarious torture. Hannibal had insidiously taken over Charlotte in her hour of need. Trusting, damaged Charlotte, who'd let him in because Hannibal made sure she had no one else.

Not even her child.

Will slammed his fist against the door behind him and blanched when he thought she'd woken. She hadn't. She rested uneasily in front of him. Still fevered, still hot, now sore from her surgery.

Will gritted his teeth in wait as he realised that he could not so easily kill Hannibal. He had to bide his time. He had to deconstruct Hannibal one inch at a time, just as Hannibal had done to him. He had Jack in his corner now. He had the FBI behind him. Will could rid Charlotte of Hannibal's cruelty. He wasn't sure if he'd survive it but looking at her so weak and ill he realised that if he did nothing Charlotte would not survive Hannibal. He walked gingerly to the end of the bed and examined her charts. Despite his deep understanding of human biology the chemical compositions made very little sense to him. He needed to know what Hannibal had done to Charlotte.

Will realised that there was only one person he could call.

Frederick Chilton.

Frederick had arrived with in the hour after Will's firm phone call. Anyone else on earth and Will was entirely sure that the self preserving psychiatrist would have hung up but not in the face of his favourite patient's illness. He arrived with a curt nod of his head and snatched her charts immediately.

"Is this her blood work?" he asked. Will nodded as he sat down on the small sofa at the end of Charlotte's bed.

Frederick flicked back and forth between the pages of her chart. His eyebrows furrowed and he let out a long exhale.

"It's…. clever…" he finally answered.

Will waited patiently. He couldn't quiet make himself touch Charlotte yet. He wanted to. He wanted to more than anything but she looked like glass and Will imagined if he did she may shatter.

"Clever how?" Will finally asked.

"There's an increase from quiet an early stage in her pregnancy in oestrogen," Chilton murmured. "Not a natural amount. The integers are precise. They almost seem induced."

"Hannibal was providing her prenatal vitamins," Will said in a strained voice. "He could have easily manipulated her hormone intake."

"He could of," Chilton agreed. "There seems to be a natural correlation to it being induced. Not at first glance, however there is certainly a very perfect increase in the dose about two weeks ago."

Will nodded.

"That would just increase risk," Will said as he rubbed his hands down his face. "It wouldn't be the cause."

"No," Frederick agreed. "The cause is a well timed low dosage of Misoprostol."

Will stared blankly for a moment and Frederick exhaled in frustration.

"Even in very low dosage it can cause miscarriage," Chilton said slowly. Even when they were on the same side Frederick still held his air of haughtiness. "Her blood just looks as though she's been given a very high dosage when she was admitted last saturday but in my professional opinion it looks as though she's been ingesting it for an extended period. About a week."

"So you think he caused it?" Will asked almost silently. Frederick caught the rage bubbling in Will's gaze and could only empathise.

Frederick nodded and snapped her file closed. He looked irate.

He placed her file down and paced slowly to the top of her bed.

"How could he do that to her?" Frederick asked in a tight voice. "I thought he liked her."

"He does," Will said in a bitter, cold voice. "That's why he did it. He believes he's done her a favour. It was just desserts for what I did to him. He'll genuinely believe that this is my fault."

"I should have driven her home on saturday," Frederick muttered more to himself than anyone else. Will watched from afar as Frederick delicately pushed some hair from her face.

No matter what dislike he had of Frederick Chilton, the man's loyalty to Charlotte certainly endeared him in Will's eyes. He could also see that Frederick had just realised how serious Hannibal was about getting what he wanted. If he could so easily harm Charlotte, someone he seemed to actually like on a personal level, what chance did Frederick have?

Both the mens thoughts were interrupted by a tiny sigh by Charlotte. Frederick glanced down and Charlotte flickered a groggy gaze to him. It took her a moment to register but Frederick could see the fever had left her gaze. She was lucid.

"Hello Doctor Chilton," she greeted in a hoarse voice.

"Hello indeed," Frederick said gently. She tried to move but the strain hurt and she settled once more.

"It's gone," she said in a small voice. "Frederick it's-"

"I know," he interrupted softly. "I know."

"We can't tell Will," Charlotte said in a tiny, broken voice. "Not now. He's in his hour of need. I couldn't tell him. He must be so afraid and alone… _we can't take this form him_."

"Charlotte he was released," Frederick said in an uneasy voice. "He's not being charged by the state anymore. You were right. He was innocent."

To Frederick's surprise she beamed brilliantly. Despite all her pain and grief the news filled her with a joy almost foreign to her.

"He is?" she asked weakly. "You mean he's… _really_…?"

Her eyes glimmered and Frederick nodded. Will stood slowly and walked towards her other side. When he reached her view Will saw the perfect balance of overwhelming joy and grief meet her eyes.

She reached out weakly for him and Frederick stepped away.

"Will?" she whispered unsurely. He could see her examining the situation, unsure if it were another fevered nightmare or not.

"I'm real," will said softly. He perched on the edge of her bed and held her hand. "You're at John Hopkins hospital in Baltimore. It's 3 pm, and I'm real."

Will could see her believe him. Tears begun to pour from the corner of her eyes, burying themselves in to the thick, curling halo of her hair below.

"_I'm so sorry,_" Charlotte whimpered. Will felt his throat constrict at the sincerity of her words.

"Charlotte no-"

"I let us down," She interrupted weakly. "I let everyone down. _I'm so sorry_."

"You didn't let anyone down," Will murmured as his fingers wrapped in to her hair. He leant his forehead against hers and felt devastated when he heard the first small sob erupt from her lips. Her tears wet his fingers and Will closed his eyes.

"No," he told her firmly. "Charlotte. This is not your fault. This happened."

"_Will you forgive me?_" she asked as she wept endlessly, sorrow and other emotions her weak body couldn't facilitate encasing her.

"_Of course_," Will told her. "Of course. Charlotte I was _never_ angry with you. Never."

She nodded and finally she held him back. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He felt the cold press of her IV drip as well as her warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," she continued to whisper feverishly, long after Will's protests for her to stop died out.

Frederick left without saying goodbye. The heart breaking scene was too much and too intimate for him to bare witness to. He knew if she was not safe from Hannibal's insidiousness neither was he.

Charlotte nor Will noticed him leave. They were both too wrapped and too consumed in their grief together.

Will finally untangled himself from her and glanced down at her broken hearted gaze. He gently kissed every inch of her tear soaked face.

"I'm here now," he told her firmly between kisses.

She nodded weakly. He could see exhaustion cling to her as he shifted upwards. He was delicate with her as he repositioned her. He raised her bed and propped himself beside her before he gently brought her in to the crook of his arm. She curled to him, burying her face against his chest.

"I'm so glad you're here," she admitted so reverently and earnestly it sounded like a prayer. "I love you so much _ma __moitié_."

Will kissed the top of her head and watched her fingers wrap weakly in to the soft fabric of his shirt.

"I know Charlotte," he whispered. "I love you too."

She submitted to the grief and exhaustion and wept herself to sleep against him. Will allowed her the peace and safety to truly feel her despair. Despite the ungodly horror of the situation he just was glad to hold her and keep her once more. Charlotte's long list of being betrayed by men who were supposed to care about her would end with him. He would not allow any betrayal. He wouldn't allow her anymore pain at his hands. He would destroy the man who had done this to them. It was unforgivable and Will knew that his reckoning was neigh.

He would protect his beloved Charlotte by punishing their greatest enemy.

No matter what the cost. No matter what the consequence.

Will Graham would spill Hannibal Lecter's blood in repayment for the blood of their lost child.


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello! In this chapter I attempt to explore how Charlotte is coping. It's a little introspective but I hope you all enjoy it. Personally it's one of my favourites. Enjoy my dears and thank you for your continued reading, reviewing, favouriting, and following xoxo _

**Chapter Fourteen **

Their time in the hospital together had been cathartic. Charlotte genuinely felt as though she could heal with her Will Graham at her side. Her pain felt halved in his presence. He was realistically the only other person on the earth who understood her agony. They'd wept together, felt their anguish together, and healed one another. His vulnerability made her feel strong. She felt validated in seeing his shattering heart. She had not overreacted in the face of her pain. She had been right to feel so alone and crushed in her loss. He'd barely left her side while she was in hospital. He'd gone once to speak to Mariam Lass. Charlotte understood that he needed to. They were both victims of the rippers cruelty and Charlotte supposed such a meeting would be cleansing for Will.

She'd noticed certain changes in Will since his time in Frederick's hospital. He had a new found stillness that unsettled her. His brows did not jump with every word, his lips did not twitch with each sound, and his eyes never darted. She wasn't sure she liked that change. There was a ruthless concentration that had instead taken it's place. He stayed so pristinely still all the time. Charlotte could only see herself mirror him, but she knew that the stillness was not inspired by her.

She could only attribute the careful control to Hannibal. Will held himself not dissimilarly to their estranged friend and it unsettled Charlotte in a way she didn't understand.

Hannibal had not contacted her at all since his party. Charlotte found that fact numbing. She wasn't sure why it clawed and hurt her. His betrayal oddly stung her more than anything Will had ever done to her. Charlotte however was stubborn and she sure as hell wouldn't contact him first.

The only real development in the hospital had been an engagement.

Charlotte had been hesitant at first but Will had brought it up gently and coaxed her to agree.

"It just makes sure I can see you if you're in hospital," Will had said softly. "From a legal stand point….and I do love you…"

With that rational Charlotte had agreed. It seemed important to him, even if she didn't feel it was the best timing, so she obliged happily enough. She wore her grandmama's ring which Will had fetched from their home. She didn't want him to buy one. She didn't want anything flash. She'd wear her family heirloom on her finger and that was the only thing that changed between them.

Will of course hid his real reasons. His rational was to assure Charlotte's financial safety if he did not survive Hannibal. At least she would have legal efficacy to receive his property if he could convince her to marry him in time. That engagement ring would at least make her claim to his property a tighter argument. That however wasn't as appealing he supposed as 'love', nor did Will wish to stress Charlotte with such outcomes. He also wanted to leave her with an assurance that he did truly love her. He was sure if worst came to worst she might not believe that true.

He was logical now. That had changed in him. His imagination still ran wild but now he could see clearly. He could control his own fate.

When they'd finally left the hospital Charlotte was still weak. Will glanced her worriedly as they drove in silence home. He would give anything to see her smile again. It had been months since he'd heard Charlotte laugh. He missed it in a deep aching way that clung to his chest.

They didn't speak for the hour long drive. She'd simply laid her head to the glass and watched the cloud smattered sky above with silent, vacant eyed, contemplation. Will partially wanted to know what was happening in her mind but he understood someone like Charlotte needed her space in the face of her agony.

Will had his stroke of genius when his car pulled up by his house.

Charlotte went to follow him in to the house, still pale and weak, still sad; but he stopped her.

"Just wait," Will said and she gave him a tired glance. She trusted him however and stood in the snow just in front of the stoop.

He jogged slowly to the house and opened the door. The swarm of his stray dog pack streamed from the house and tumbled across each other to get to Charlotte.

It started as a small twitch of her lip. Her sadness was lifted momentarily as she watched her fluffy friends fall across each other to reach her and her first laugh was elicited by buster.

She laughed as her small friend tumbled in the snow. Will watched her trudge through the snow and sat heavily beside her little friend.

"_Oh mon chien_," she chuckled as buster leapt to kiss her face. She tutted softly while she kissed the top of his little head repeatedly. Will watched for a moment before walking across to her slowly.

"I thought they may cheer you," he suggested carefully. She nodded and glanced up at him.

"They do," she said with a soft smile. Will could see a contentment in her eyes he hadn't seen in three months. He hadn't heard her laugh in three months. Even though it had been a small laugh it had filled Will with deep satisfaction that warmed his heart. He watched her embrace the pack. Each dog greeted her in their own little way and she patted and acknowledged each one. The warmest welcome however was for Winston. That dog was her guardian angel and she held her golden haired angel to her for a long moment. She laughed once more as buster once again tripped over himself.

Will leant and watched from the porch. She looked so young when she smiled. There was a sadness in Charlotte's eyes that aged her beauty. When he heard her tinkling, infectious laugh however Will found his heart feel light for the first time in a long time.

Their private moments of contentment however were very short lived. Charlotte had turned when she heard the rumble of a car and recognised the car almost immediately.

"Why is Frederick Chilton here?" Charlotte called to Will. Will watched the car speed up their driveway and he frowned.

"I'm not sure," he told her honestly as he stepped across the porch slowly. Frederick stumbled from the car and the dogs swarmed up to him.

Charlotte stood and blinked in shock at the sight. Frederick was covered in blood. She tilted her head and edged slowly towards Will. Frederick threw a frantic glance between the couple.

"May I use your shower?" he asked as he weakly swatted the dogs away.

Will and Charlotte both nodded and carefully lead him in to the house. Charlotte took Frederick to their bathroom, brought him fluffy white towels, and left him to his own devises without question. The moment he snapped the bathroom door shut the gravity of what had happened settled. She rushed down stairs to find Will already on his phone. He was muttering quietly to whoever he had called.

"What an earth is happening?" Charlotte asked quickly. Will glanced up and murmured one more indistinguishable thing down the phone line before hanging up.

"Charlotte," he said firmly as he swiftly stood and walk towards her. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded deftly as his hands came to cradle her head.

"The police are going to come and take Frederick Chilton," Will said. Her eyes widened and her breath caught. "Charlotte let them. You have to trust me ok?"

"But why-"

"Charlotte please," Will stressed. "Just trust me."

She searched his eyes and she allowed her implicit trust in Will Graham to drown all doubt. She nodded in his hands and he could see such deep faith burn her gaze Will felt truly settled in the face of her almost blind belief.

Will pressed a swift kiss to her head. Frederick appeared in a fluster down the staircase and Charlotte gave him a sly glance. Will was a paragon of calm. They followed the freshly cleaned Frederick to a spare room and Will sat casually on a wooden chair by the door. Charlotte hovered behind him as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm his patsy!" Frederick snapped and Charlotte gave Will a measured look. Will glanced at her and nodded calmly.

"Make us some tea Charlotte," He said evenly. She hesitated. "Please."

Charlotte nodded slowly and removed herself from the room. She was slow and careful in her administrations. Frederick's low growls were incomprehensible. Whatever he was saying it was aggressive and panicked. Will's voice was calm and she found the shift in him since his time in prison disconcerting. Will was skittish previously and now he had a unspoken focus about him that unnerved her if she was honest.

People changed she was sure, but she wondered how much Frederick's hospital had changed Will.

She allowed herself to think of where the blood had come form. Had Frederick harmed somebody? She wouldn't consider him capable but she was starting to feel that she couldn't really trust anyone.

Even when she was done making the tea she didn't bring it in. She wasn't an idiot. Will just wanted her out of the room and that was enough for her. The situation had come with a sense of detachment Charlotte didn't want to examine. It was as though she had bathed in such sadness that nothing could drown her senses anymore. She was at one with the consuming black swirling water and she could feel a desperate determination to find an ending to it all. She didn't care if the puzzle piece fit, it just needed to finish the picture. She was fond of Frederick but she was fonder of her fiancé. She trusted Will over anything she knew about Doctor Chilton. He'd been Will's constant companion in that hospital she mused softly to herself. If anyone knew Frederick out of the two of them, of course it would be Will.

Her ears however did perk as the dogs begun to yap. She slowly edged across her home and back to Will as she saw the black gleam of a familiar Chevrolet SUV.

"Who did you call Will?" she heard a panicked Frederick demand. Will didn't answer. Charlotte walked swiftly to the room and hung to the door frame. Frederick's gaze darted between Charlotte and Will and he trembled.

"Who did _you_ call?" he demanded at Charlotte.

"No one!" She replied in surprise at his accusation.

Frederick hesitated and suddenly snatched a gun from his pocket. He threw the nozzle between Charlotte and Will. Will looked utterly unimpressed while all that was elicited from Charlotte was a wide eyed blink.

"You're not a killer Frederick," Will said with a small laugh.

Charlotte's innate sense of survival was removed momentarily to be replaced with her irritation. She had suffered enough indignity without a gun being hoisted in her face. How _dare_ Frederick throw such a weapon so carelessly about her home.

"Rude," Charlotte scolded as she followed Will from the room. "_Rude_ Frederick."

Frederick trembled in his place as the two allies he had left the room.

Will was quick out the door and Charlotte watched his aggressive exchange with Jack from the doorway.

"Hello Jack," she called casually. Despite her new found like of the man she couldn't help but smile softly when she saw his agitation flare at her false politeness.

"He's got a gun Jack," Will tried to interject as Jack barged in to the house.

"Good!" he bellowed as he begun to quickly rush through their home.

Charlotte stepped out to stand by Will. He turned a small smile to her and he saw her watch him carefully.

"What is happening Will?" she asked quietly and Will hesitated.

He could lie to her he supposed but she'd never believe him.

"Jack thinks Frederick Chilton is the ripper," Will said. That wasn't _entirely_ untrue. She stared blankly and her lips twitched in to a smile.

"_La foutaise_," she uttered disbelievingly.

Will had heard her say that enough to know that she had called 'bullshit'.

He shrugged and she glanced back at the house. It had grown silent but she felt detached. Her own pain was so consuming Charlotte wasn't sure she could feel anything else just yet.

"Is Jack insane?" Charlotte asked and Will shook his head.

"Evidence points to him-"

"Evidence points to you!" Charlotte interrupted sharply. "Do you really believe this!"

"I'm not sure," Will lied and she pulled a vexed face. Charlotte viewed him for a moment before heading back in to the house. Charlotte waited by the window to see Frederick Chilton dragged out by Jack Crawford and thrown in to the black car. Frederick was trembling and sweating. He looked sincerely terrified and Charlotte watched from a distance with a disbelieving heart.

Charlotte was quickly learning the evidential truth of trauma was that the need for closure can be blinding. Of course she wished she knew who'd hurt herself and Will but she hadn't offered it much thought. She figured in her vortex of stress and loneliness she'd felt in Will's absence that it would drive her mad.

Will had entered the house and walked up stairs without addressing her. She watched Jack drive Frederick away and she pulled a frown.

There was only one person she wanted to talk to.

She didn't tell Will she was going. She'd left a written note in the kitchen and hoped in to her car.

She arrived outside his office with in the hour. It was an educated guess that he'd be there. Unlike last time Charlotte didn't hesitate by her pink stain on the steps. Her heart was heavier with the pain of her loss than anything that the scar that ran down her right wrist could elicit from her.

She hesitated by the door but knocked. He took only a moment to answer it and his eyes blinked in surprise at the view of her.

"Hello," Hannibal Lecter said evenly.

She stared at him and felt a flurry of emotions ravage her weak frame. She hated him and adored him. She wanted to slap him and hug him. She had never wanted anyones attention more nor wished to turn her back on them all at the same time.

"I'd like to come in," she finally settled on. Hannibal moved away and she took shaken steps in to his grand office.

It smelt like sandalwood and warm paper. She inhaled for a long moment, taking in the sound of his crackling fire, and felt her shoulders loosen.

She stood in the middle of the room and Hannibal watched her take in her familiar surroundings.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, feeling his gaze against the back of her neck.

"No," Hannibal replied. "I'm free for the rest of the afternoon."

She turned swiftly on the spot and faced him. Dark lined ran ragged beneath her deep set, brown eyes. Her skin was wan, her frame thin and frail, but there was an anger burning her gaze that overpowered all weakness the rest of her figure conveyed.

"You owe me an apology," she said in a low tone. She was deathly soft in her request and Hannibal felt a spark of surprise at her forwardness.

"Excuse me?"

"You are not excused," Charlotte replied swiftly. "I have suffered Hannibal. Where were you?"

"I do not understand-"

"Liar."

Her eyes burned such unsatisfied rage Hannibal felt a burning spark of excitement in the face of her wrath.

"I'm sorry."

She said nothing as she viewed him almost hatefully.

"I am not Will's keeper," she continued vehemently. "And you tarred and feathered me-"

"I was wounded," Hannibal interrupted evenly. "And I punished you unfairly, I understand that but I-"

"**_I lost my child!_**" she cried loudly. It was the first time she'd said it in such certain terms and it tore through her. She looked raw and dangerous.

Hannibal paused. She'd never raised her voice to him before. He stilled in front of Charlotte and she glared at him.

"You were my _friend_!" she implored. "I _needed_ you!"

"Charlotte I am sorry-"

"But you were _busy_ with Alana Bloom!" she said with disdain. "This was my hour of _need_ Hannibal and you _failed_ me!"

Hannibal stopped himself. He watched her closely, regarding her devastation carefully. This was going to go one or two ways. She would either turn her back on him forever, or she was begging for his friendship.

Hannibal decided humility was his greatest ally.

"I am so sorry," he told her softly. She paused at that response. She viewed him with burning eyes, her gaze pained and betrayed. "I know. Charlotte I won't ever forgive myself so how could I expect you to perform such an act of absolution."

His response shocked her momentarily. She hesitated in front of him and glanced about the room.

"I don't forgive you," she said in a small voice. Her viciousness had been a front and Hannibal was quietly sated in his ability to read her so clearly.

He took a careful step towards her but she did not move.

"How are you Charlotte?" he asked softly and her hands shook at her sides.

"_Terrible_," she conceded through gritted teeth. She gulped and bit down on her lip.

He nodded and viewed her carefully. As her hands trembled Hannibal caught a glimpse of her ring. He drunk it in shortly. He'd pry later, organically. He wouldn't ask now but he was desperate to know about it. He wondered if Will knew she was here. Alana had mentioned that she had been unwell and he could see it on her. She _smelled_ unwell. There was a sweet stickiness that clung to her skin. Did Will propose to her in the face of mortality? Was it from love or grief?

"Would you like to take a seat?"

She paused but nodded and he lead her to the two leather chairs that sat in front of his crackling fireplace.

She hesitated and sat tentatively in her chair. Hannibal watched her for a long moment as she steadied herself.

"I am so sorry for your loss Charlotte," Hannibal murmured softly.

She almost shook her head in the face of his condolences. Her knuckles turned white as she bunched her fists in her lap and Hannibal felt waves of deep, visceral satisfaction in knowing such untaped anger existed in Charlotte's heart.

"It's an ocean of sadness," she muttered. "Punctured by a swell of rage."

"Is Will coping?" Hannibal asked. She nodded.

"He is my strength," she uttered reverently.

They stayed silent for a moment but Hannibal could tell her need for friendship had over powered her feelings of betrayal. He could see the loneliness that only pain could bring glitter in her gaze as she stared intently at the fire in front of them.

"They think Frederick Chilton is the ripper," she muttered.

Hannibal stilled at her confession. He waited patiently as she lowered her head in to her hands.

"He came to our home," she muttered. "Covered in blood. I don't know…"

She peaked a glance at her patient companion and sighed.

"Frederick Chilton," she murmured. "He's harmless."

"Do you have anyone else you feel could fit the description?" Hannibal asked evenly. She paused and glanced at him.

She shook her head and shrugged.

"I want it to end," she whispered. She looked at him pleadingly and Hannibal gave her a soft, sad smile.

"You must be exhausted," Hannibal agreed and she glanced away.

"It's been so long since it's been still," she whispered.

Hannibal let a pregnant pause hang before he allowed his question to finally surface

"Are you engaged Miss Claude?" he called calmly. Charlotte blinked and glanced her hand.

"Oh," she uttered. She blinked at the ring and nodded. "I am."

"I offer my congratulations," Hannibal told her. He sounded sincere and she flickered a smile to him.

"Thank you."

Hannibal wanted to pry. He wanted to know why it had happened. Was it a reaction to grief? A river of questions ran through his mind but he knew better than to push her. She'd just returned to him and he had no want or need to have her flee. So instead the two sat in silent contentment of each others company for a long time. By the time Charlotte left darkness had dashed the winter skies. She was still too weak to truly argue with him. He'd seen the sadness of her soul in their silence and it had pacified him. Even in her darkest hour she sought him. Despite his cruelness and his distance she had wanted nothing more than his company.

Charlotte's young life had seen horror's Hannibal knew that she felt only he could understand. No matter what he did to her it would never replace the unexplainable calm his presence brought her. She had Will and she had others but it was only in silent contemplation beside him could Hannibal see her develop the ability to digest her anguish. He wondered silently if Charlotte's attachment to him meant that Will Graham would soon be at his steps but he dashed the hope.

Will Graham had seen him and despised him.

He'd seen Charlotte leave with the same heaviness but her disbelief that Frederick could be a killer had softened. Her resolve had crumbled in the face of her need for the horror to end. Of course she was upset at such an idea but if it meant it would end…

Hannibal's musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. He paused and opened the door and his paused in shock to see Will Graham stood in front of him.

"Good evening Doctor Lecter," Will said calmly.

Hannibal gestured him and watched Will walk to the middle of the room and observe his office with calm detachment.

"Did you leave my standing appointment open?" Will asked and Hannibal nodded. He still was unsure why Will was here.

"Can I help you Will?" He asked and Will turned with a relaxed smile.

"I'd like to resume my therapy Doctor Lecter," he said evenly.

Hannibal stood and stared.

_well well well…_

This certainly was going to be much more interesting than he'd ever dared hope.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter fifteen. **

Charlotte Claude, foreign national, darling of the Baltimore Opera, fiancée to Will Graham, and survivor had achieved something truly fantastic.

Charlotte Claude had made a friend.

Though making friends in most circumstances would be considered an average achievement, for Charlotte Claude to make a friend who she could actually be herself with was incredibly rare. She had many 'friends'; People she knew, people she lunched with, people she spoke to at parties but no one that made her smile when her mobile phone screen flashed.

This woman was a carbon copy of a younger Charlotte. She was a survivor, a fighter, and a wide eyed beauty such as herself.

Her name was Margot Verger.

Charlotte had met her a a few weeks earlier, only days after being discharged from hospital, at a private party she had promised to perform at. She had begged her managing director not to send her but the host had been insistent. By insistent of course the flustered manager meant the host had threatened to pull funding from the Opera company so Charlotte's hand had been forced. The host had been Mason Verger and the theme had been an equally distasteful '_Night in Paris!_'.

Something about Mason Verger had made Charlotte's skin crawl. He was all too familiar with his ghosting touches and fond endearments. Charlotte silently compared him to a virus. Insidious but quick acting, making sure he inflicted himself in to the mind of everyone around him. He had a hideously theatrical laugh and tone that made Charlotte deeply uncomfortable. She imagined her father was probably not at all dissimilar to him in his youth. Outwardly charming but dangerously deceptive. Violence clearly lay beneath the charismatic surface of the blonde young man. Charlotte had no urge what so ever to test the water.

She'd been sat next to Margot Verger during the dinner, sandwiched between her brother and herself, and Charlotte had truly seen that young woman. Margot was a carbon copy of a twenty two year old Charlotte Claude. She was aloof, almost rude at times, and sparkly eyed. Charlotte adored the young woman immediately. They had spoken vaguely in hushed tones through out the evening but Charlotte had watched the young woman become her shadow by the end of the night.

She'd offered her a dinner and the two had ended up in a dinner at one in the morning shortly after that atrocious party.

They'd spoken at length about their hardships, their shared hatred of their own family, and the fear that lived inside of them. Charlotte had listened to all of Margot's horror with still patience and Margot had finally given her a smile. The two with in three weeks were a picture of friendship. Will had been introduced to the young woman shortly after as she had become a common fixture at their wolf trap home.

Despite the fact she was so often their guest she was off handed with Will, offering only brief smiles and nods as well as few vague conversations here and there. She was actively distant with him which Will had appreciated.

Will however had bristled at the knowledge that she too had acquired Hannibal Lecter as a psychiatrist. The discovery had been an accident when he'd overheard her discussing her progress with Charlotte in the kitchen over cups of tea.

"He's unorthodox," she'd commented lightly to Will when Charlotte mentioned both her and Will saw the sophisticated foreigner both professionally and socially.

He felt his life was a constant balance of keeping all around him blind. Charlotte however was the easiest as she _wanted_ to be blind. She desperately wanted Chilton to be the ripper. Will knew she didn't believe it but her need to close that chapter of her life was so overwhelming that Will had seen her convince herself that the obvious lie was truth. If it meant she could move away from the pain of loosing their child than she would.

Will could see a thin crack run up her delicate facade. The lose of their child was the worst possible thing that could have happened to her and seeing her suffer had devastated Will.

Will could see that Charlotte needed Margot to feel strong. Will watched Charlotte fall in to a pattern of work, Hannibal, and Margot. Hannibal was now the psychiatrist that sent reports to her mother. He'd replaced Frederick almost immediately, slipping all too comfortable in to the now vacant role. Unable to separate his deceptions from Hannibal's manipulations of Charlotte Will felt his options begin to close.

There was only one thing Will could think to do to break the fast acting triumvirate that had encased his beloved Charlotte.

He called Karl Claude.

Karl had sucked in a deep breath when Will revealed all that Charlotte had recently suffered through.

"I didn't know," the French man had muttered down the phone. "Will I am so sorry…"

"Please come," Will had simply said. Karl obliged and arrived within the week. Will had driven her to the airport, promising her a surprise, and felt a small smile stretch his lips when she squealed at the sight of Karl walking through Gate Five.

"Cece, come here," Her brother had muttered as he embraced her against his winter coat.

"Thank you Will," she had whispered endlessly as she clung to her older brother. She had whispered with Karl sharply in French and he had softly held her tiny hand. Karl was a giant of a man. Standing six foot five he would rival Jack Crawford for height but like Charlotte he was slight and sophisticated. They shared the same facial features and the same temperament. Even with his blue hair and blonde eyes he would be immediately recognised as her brother.

It was on the way home Will had suggested that they stay at her apartment and she'd nodded with a bright eyed smile.

"I want you to myself," she had whined at Karl. Karl had laughed and gently tugged her hair.

"Of course Cece," he had said. She beamed at the nickname. It had been so long since anyone had called her that and the familiarly in which Karl said it made her heart burst with love. Will had never felt more relieved in his entire life when he saw her walls collapse in front of her brother.

The moment they were alone in the apartment Charlotte had told Karl everything. She spoke about loosing the baby, Will being falsely imprisoned, the fever that had nearly stolen her life, the psychiatrist that Will saw that had become a strength for her, the fact _her_ old psychiatrist was now probably the Chesapeake Ripper, and of course her engagement. She cried and wept and whispered all her horrors and all the news in French to him and he had listened in a way that only a brother could. Charlotte had fallen asleep on her sofa beside Karl as her television buzzed quietly. Karl had tucked her under a blanket and taken himself to rest.

The next morning Charlotte woke with invigoration. She had awoken Karl with a fresh cup of coffee, a swift kiss on his cheek, and a bright smile at his grumpy face.

"We will see Will today," she said firmly and he had chuckled at her stern enthusiasm.

"Dáccord," he groaned and she smiled brilliantly.

They'd chattered on the fifty minute drive to Will's of life and it's many struggles. Karl mentioned things at home were hard. His wife, a gorgeous Italian pastry chef, had taken their daughter back to Italy for a little while, a break he assumed from their constant bickering of late. Charlotte had pulled a face at such news. She always held Karl's little family as the golden standard and to hear that it's perfection was endangered made her prickle with discomfort.

"Marrying a foreigner," he had muttered and Charlotte glanced up with a small smile.

"I don't think I'll have that problem with Will," she replied as she watched down the stretching highway of the farmlands of Virginia.

"_Non_," Karl agreed. "Extenuating circumstances."

There was a lightness in her heart when they arrived at the farm house in the picturesque lands of Wolf Trap Virginia.

"This is your home?" Karl asked as she glanced lovingly up at the small house. "It's very pretty."

"This is my home," she agreed sweetly as she switched the engine off.

She led Karl to the house and he laughed disbelievingly when he saw the flurry of animals that ran out of the front door. The look Charlotte shot him silenced any sharp comment that sat on the tip of his tongue. She wrapped her arms tightly around the rugged up Will who was waiting patiently on the front step for her.

"Good morning," she sighed against him. He hadn't seen her look so young in such a long time.

"Good morning Charlotte," he murmured against her hair. Will glanced up to see an overwhelmed Karl patting the flurry of dogs.

"Good morning Will," the foreign Claude called in his obscenely thick French accent. He never noticed how light Charlotte's accent was but his ears literally had to strain to understand Karl.

"Good morning," Will said as he reached to shake Charlotte's brother's hand.

Will would respect and adore Karl till his dying day. He had saved Charlotte's life and he'd never be able to repay the man who was practically a stranger for it.

"Take the dogs for a walk," Charlotte uttered to Will. "Take Karl. Speak to him, I want you to get along, please?"

Will nodded and softly kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed against his touch.

"I do love you Will Graham," she murmured. Will smiled softly as she turned and snapped something in French he could not understand. Karl's eyes flickered up to Will and he shrugged before nodding his head.

She quickly kissed Will once more before disappearing into the house and leaving the two men alone.

"She has decided we will be friends, no?" the blonde haired man called. Will chuckled and nodded as he walked slowly down the steps, tugging his leather gloves on as he went.

"Can you stand the cold?" Will asked.

"Why not?" Karl responded and the two set off across the snow covered fields of the Virginian countryside.

"I feel like I already know you," Will muttered as the two crunched through the morning snow. "Charlotte speaks of you so often. You're probably the only Claude that brings a smile to her face."

"It is all so… how do you say… complicated," Karl uttered in agreement. He turned a worried glance down to Will, grimacing softly. "How is she?"

Will sighed and leant down, picked up a stick, and tossed it.

"She's strong," Will said with a heavy breath. "But… It's a lot to go through."

"It's too much," Karl agreed as he watched the dogs stream after the stick. "Charlotte always impressed me with her calm. Even when papa would play pink to blue-"

"Pink to blue?" Will interrupted. Karl blinked at him and nodded his head.

"Have I said these words wrong?" he asked. Will deftly shook his head. "She has not told you about this?"

Will shook his head once more, before pulling his coat tighter about him.

"Papa used to pin her down," Karl mused as the snow crunched beneath him. "He would, choke? This is the word? Yes, choke her. Lips would go pink to blue, he would stop. He called the game _rose à bleu_."

"Why?" Will asked without thinking.

"To feel like he owned her?" Karl suggested with a thoughtful frown. "To let her know that she was his? I don't know if I am honest. We all used to scream for him to stop, but he always would the moment her lips were blue."

"Charlotte never said," Will uttered quietly. They'd never spoken about her childhood at length and the newest knowledge truly unsettled him.

"She will not," Karl said with a renewed grimace. "I only tell you Will because after this awful thing she would always seem so together. We would wait for her to cry and she would not."

Will frowned softly and blinked in the winter sunshine.

"She does cry now," Karl said quietly. "Will, this is _très_ good."

Will nodded softly in understanding and the two walked in silence for a long time more. Will contemplated what his life was spiralling towards. Hannibal Lecter had pulled him back in to a case that had been particularly heinous, but not before stopping him from killing a man. Whatever game Hannibal was playing with him now was more intricate than he could have ever imagined. With the new information of Charlotte's traumas a new wave of guilt crushed the blue eyed teacher. Charlotte Claude was now once again in the middle of a game of rose à bleu, except this time it was Hannibal Lecter's hands that were crushing her wind pipe.

"You make her very happy," Karl said and Will glanced up, jarred from his musings. "She speaks of you with sunshine, no? Like you light up her life. _Lumière_, the fiancé who brought the stars from heaven to her feet."

"She said that?" Will asked and Karl nodded.

"_Mon coeur_," Karl quoted as the two men begun to slowly walk towards the house. "You, the dogs, the house, it is her family now. She says to me Will, goodbye to France. You are her Paris now."

Will smiled despite himself at such loving words. The guilt raged beside his endearment as the two walked in their silent contemplations. Will's contentment however faltered at the sight of a too familiar Bentley pulled up outside of his home. He could see the outline of Charlotte chatting animatedly with the owner upon their front porch.

"Who is this?" Karl asked casually and Will paused with no response. How was he to explain Doctor Lecter to Karl?

_Oh, no one, just the man who took the life of our unborn child. _

_Oh, him? Just the man who will cost Charlotte her life._

_Oh- Doctor Lecter is a cannibalistic serial killer who moonlights as the family psychiatrist._

All were accurate enough comments but will stuck with a simple, 'a friend'. Karl nodded and Will suppressed his shudder as Charlotte excitedly skipped down the front steps to snatch Karl's hand.

"You must meet him!" she said brightly. "Hannibal you must meet my brother!"

Hannibal shook the mans hand with an easy smile.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter," he said suavely. Karl nodded and gave a boyish grin.

"Karl Claude," he said with a dip of his head.

"It's wonderful to meet you," Hannibal said calmly. "I hope this is not too forward, but i am having a dinner party tomorrow evening. I would love it if you would attend. Charlotte has told me so much of you but I would love to know you myself."

Karl grinned and nodded a yes to the invitation.

"This man is a chef Karl," Charlotte praised with a beam. "We will have so much fun, won't we Will?"

Will smiled as he eyed the tall, malicious psychiatrist.

"Good morning Doctor Lecter."

"Good morning Will," Hannibal said with a soft sigh. "I am afraid I come baring some disheartening news for you on behalf of Jack Crawford."

Charlotte bristled and excused herself to go inside. Karl followed, biding a quick goodbye to the two men.

Hannibal had explained it all quickly to Will. The viciousness of the so-called animal attack, the necessity to have him view it, the blood trails that ran through the snow like brush strokes on canvas, and the complete lack of theory the FBI currently had.

"After all Will," hannibal said easily. "Who else's mind turns with the simplicity and complication that yours inherently moves in?"

Will had nodded and followed his pray and hunter to the Bentley sitting in the snow. He considered Charlotte in the house as the two enemies and friends slid in to the vehicle. His worlds were turning too quickly, the parallel lines crossing one another, and his careful traps lay in danger of being snagged much too early.

Tomorrow's dinner party would only further prove his fears that the worlds he dared not meet were now crashing together with devastating consequence.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_Hello my darlings. I promise that this is just the beginning. There will be a lot more of our darling Margot Verger in the chapters to come. Thank you for your patience, i know this was a large wait between chapters but I promise I will finish this story._

_If you can take the time to read and review I am always truly grateful. They do genuinely motivate me to find time to write and plan this story properly. I'd love to know if there is any particular direction you'd like to see. I promise I always take your suggestions in to consideration when writing for you xoxo_


	16. Chapter 16

_Hello my darlings! __There will be more Margot next chapter so look foreword to it my darlings. Thank you for your reviews, favourites, and follows. They offer more motivation than you'll ever know. In the mean time, enjoy Chapter 16! xo_

**Chapter Sixteen**

Hannibal did not bother to disguise the gaze that drunk in Charlotte Claude when she arrived at his door the next night.

Flanked either side by Will Graham and her brother Karl Claude, Hannibal immediately noticed how slight she had become. She was sparklingly elegant as usual, looking as though she could claim royal blood if need be. She had lost so much weight since falling ill and she looked fragile. Her smile at the sight of him was genuine however and she swiftly kissed each of his cheeks as she entered his baroque home.

Hannibal shook Karl's hand while only giving Will a short nod. Will eyed him suspiciously, his blue eyes claiming hatred. Hannibal drunk her in in a way when he opened the door that made Will prickle.

"I've never seen you look so French," Hannibal commented to Charlotte as he eased her from her coat.

"I am always French," Charlotte warned and Hannibal gave her a wry chuckle. He shook Karl's hand once more and Karl grinned easily at the stylish gentleman.

"Your home is _élégant_," Karl commented as his eyes brushed across the Baroque setting.

Will had noticed the charm that Karl had. It was more aggressive than the brand of likeableness that Charlotte presented. He was a lawyer and it was obvious in the way that he could so easily sway any conversation to what he wished it to be about. Will was interested to see how the manipulative Hannibal would cope in his presence.

"Thank you Mister Claude," Hannibal replied with a small dip of his head.

"_Style de vie_," Charlotte sighed quietly, teasing her brother with a small roll of her eyes. "Flatterer…"

Karl tutted, glancing her with mock offence at her teasing. A small smile drew across Will's lips, Charlotte certainly was sharp with her brother dearest.

Hannibal led them through to the living room, glancing nonchalantly back at Charlotte. Will was sure Hannibal only did it to antagonise him. Charlotte was slightly startled by the view of Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford but it lasted for only a second. A charming smile crossed her and she greeted them both as warmly as possible.

"This is my brother," she introduced. She fluttered a hand to Karl. "Karl Claude, visiting from Paris."

"Is that an engagement ring?" Alana interrupted with a wide-eyed blink. Charlotte glanced at her hand and smiled softly.

"Yes," she said and threw a small smile to Will.

"Congratulations," Jack said tautly. Jack had been desperately trying to get Will to push Charlotte away. Their plan was to dangerous for her to be privy to let alone exposed to, and now he had put a ring on her finger? Will took the mans silent anger. He knew Jack had only Charlotte's best intentions at heart. Will could see Jack now felt a tie to Charlotte since he had seen her curled up on the curb outside of John Hopkins. Will knew Hannibal better. He knew the further he pushed Charlotte away, the closer to Hannibal she would fall.

"Let me guess," Karl interrupted the silence. "Tall, imposing, impressive…. Jack Crawford."

He shook Jack's hand and Jack tilted his head slightly at the tall stranger.

"And you," Karl said picking up Alana's hand. "Decisive, intelligent, beautiful. You must be Alana Bloom."

Charlotte nearly laughed when she saw Doctor Alana Bloom, one of the fiercest women she had ever met, blush as Karl kissed her hand. He gave her a flirty grin.

"Thank you," Alana muttered. Charlotte had all but forgotten how flirty her brother was. Her teenage years had been spent keeping her friends safe from his inevitable charms.

"Charm runs in the family then," Hannibal commented and Charlotte rolled her eyes to him with a quirked brow.

"Don't encourage him," Charlotte murmured. Hannibal couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Much to Charlotte's relief Karl's incandescent charm carried the entire dinner party. She wasn't very fond of seafood and had frowned to herself when both the entree and the main were fish based.

"I like it," Will had interrupted when she had sighed she wasn't all so fond of fish and she'd pouted at him. After two glasses of wine Charlotte no longer minded. Karl chattered endless across the table with Jack and Alana. He was a lawyer after all and Charlotte couldn't help but smile at her brothers gift of the gab.

They'd shied from chatter about cases but Charlotte felt that was probably for her benefit. She did at least appreciate it.

By the time the party of six was sat in the lounge room, sipping scotch and coffee, Charlotte felt like she was almost enjoying everyones company. Hannibal watched her intently as she casually leant against Will and laughed softly at a joke Jack had told. She had a fantastic laugh, that was inarguable. Hannibal watched her fingers languidly play with her loose hairs. As always he was infatuated by how utterly graceful she was. Tragedy plagued her less beside Karl and Hannibal observed Will's distrustful eyes falter between himself and Charlotte.

Karl was telling a funny story from university and Charlotte was blushing as he tried to recant a tale of her runaway years.

"Karl no," she whined softly. "Please. _Non_."

"She can sing opera like an angel but I assure you she was a little devil," Karl muttered over the edge of his glass. "She made everyone call her Coco-"

"_Karl non_," Charlotte groaned as Alana smiled warmly at the tale.

"Paris, London, New York," Karl listed with a sigh. "There was a year where she lived off of cigarettes and club glitter."

"_Karl_-"

"She had pink hair," Karl continued with a wry grin. "And _très_ dark eye liner. _Noir_. Especially in London. But you dated that guy… David…?"

"Daniel?" she suggested with a blush. She gave an apologetic look to Will who chuckled at her embarrassment.

"Oh but he was nice!" Karl said as he turned back to Alana. "He was Alana! Except for the following sin..."

Jack raised a brow and leant forward.

"_Très gauche_," he said and Charlotte rolled her large brown eyes. Alana and Jack laughed aloud.

"You're being mean," she murmured in a singsong voice.

"Cece it's fine," he said, battering her complaints away with one hand. "Your newest one, this Will here. He is the perfect amount of boring."

Charlotte rolled her eyes but softly leant up and kissed her beloveds cheek.

"Perfectly boring," she sighed against his skin and Will twitched a smile.

The tales of lives past however were momentarily interrupted as Karl's phone rung. He paused and snatched it from his blazer before offering apologise to everyone in the room and walking to the near by doorway to speak.

Hannibal couldn't hear him but his maroon eyes drunk in every seconds of the interactions around him. Will had obviously not told Charlotte a single one of his discoveries. He had seen her now. Charlotte Claude was oblivious to such wrong doing. She was thinner than he'd ever seen her, the tragedy lingered in her doe eyed gaze, and he knew that she was the most vulnerable she had ever been. Will may have been reborn and his reckoning may be neigh but his love, his one and only, she was laid on a foundation of sand.

"Charlotte."

Her eyes snapped up to see a blanched Karl standing near her. Hannibal reviewed the alarmed young man. Karl was pale and still, his eyes flickering frantically across his little sister.

"_Tu vas bien, Karl_?" Charlotte asked slowly as her eyebrows furrowed gently. His mouth opened and closed a few times.

"Can I speak to you?" he asked quietly. She nodded and followed him to the doorway. Jack and Alana continued to speak, but the entire party carefully watched the two siblings subdued conversation.

Will observed Charlotte stay abnormally still. She usually shifted form side to side, her head tilted, her hands fluttering as she spoke, but as Karl spoke to her quickly he could see her spine stiffen. Will knew that could be nothing but absolutely terrible news. Will leant forward from his place, bracing himself carefully on the edge of the sofa. His eyes focused squarely on his tiny fiancé.

Karl was flashing his phone screen repeatedly at Charlotte. He looked utterly horrified at whatever it was. His French was fast and indistinguishable as he continued to lecture her sharply.

A loud, shattering crack interrupted Karl's panicked words.

The scotch tumbler shattered in her grip and Will leapt forward at the sound. She still had not moved, the shards of the glass embedded in her hand, causing crimson lines to drip quickly from her palm and down her finger tips. Her eyes were unseeing when Will snatched her. She blinked up at him, eyes searching his face before dipping to her hand.

"Oh," she said in a distant whisper. "Oh dear."

Hannibal cut in before Will could do anything and led the catatonic young woman from the room. Will tried to follow but Karl's hand came down on Will's shoulder like a vice.

"You have to look at this," he hissed in alarm. Will turned and snatched the phone that was thrust in to his hand. It took him a flickering moment to understand what was viewing but then it clicked.

Page, after page, after page, from newspaper, after newspaper, after newspaper all reiterating the exact same thing.

'Aquitaine House Wren: Albert Claude dies at 66 in prison, where is Charlotte Claude now?'

And oh they knew exactly where she was. Will felt bile rush up his throat as he read through each of her many tragedies laid in clinical dot points in newspapers all across the country. Each was said with no weight for the trauma they had caused his beloved, the words stripped of their power, their devastating affect.

One in particular stood out.

_'__Miscarriage.'_

Will swallowed hard at that.

"She didn't even tell people she was pregnant," Will said in a small voice.

Karl's eyes flashed dangerously and he pressed an icon at the bottom of the page.

"It's all from here," he snarled.

_... tattle crime... _

Will closed his eyes and let out a long, cold exhale.

"Freddie Lounds," he uttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Before Karl could respond though a timid hand laid on Will's forearm. He glanced down to see an anxious Alana Bloom beside him.

"Is everything ok?" she asked quietly. Will shook his head and thrust the phone at her before turning and rushing unceremoniously in to the kitchen.

Hannibal was slowly picking glass out of the wounds on Charlotte's palm over a bowl of warm water. She was staring blankly, settled a top the kitchen counter, all colour and emotion drained form her face. Will edged forward slowly, feeling a horror climb his spine.

"Charlotte?" he called. Her doe eyes fluttered up to him and her gaze flickered across her darling fiancé. Will stepped around Hannibal, allowing his hatred and vengeance to momentarily disappear as he concentrated solely on Charlotte.

His hand came up to softly sit against her face, cupping her cheek gently as he leant in and caught her gaze.

"Charlotte it's going to be ok," he lied.

She blinked softly and gulped hard.

"Marry me. Tomorrow."

Hannibal stilled from what he was doing and glanced up to see a shocked Will stood in front of her.

"What?"

"If my name isn't Charlotte Claude anymore-"

"Charlotte," Will tried to soothe.

"Tomorrow morning, we will go to the court house, and we will get married. Hannibal and Karl can witness, no?" she muttered, glancing up to Hannibal who still had her bloodied hand in his grip.

He nodded slowly and she gave a curt nod back.

"Charlotte you're upset," Will begun slowly.

"I know I am," she said flatly. "Of course I am. I just had the shadows of my life paraphrased in every paper across France and the east coast."

Will stilled and avoided her burning gaze for a moment.

"Just marry me Will," she said firmly. "Just do it."

Will wished to argue. If he was to marry her, and Hannibal killed him, Charlotte would never get her name out of the paper ever again. She would be a media frenzy to the day she died. How could he say that to her now though? When her eyes were full of anguish because the lost life of their child had been spilled across every tabloid she'd ever read? How could he tell the woman he'd proposed to that he could not marry her because he wouldn't survive the next thirty days?

He couldn't.

"Of course," Will said softly trying to hide his bitter defeat. "Of course Charlotte."

"Will," A burning voice snapped from the doorway. He turned to see an infuriated Jack Crawford stood flush in the doorway. A worried Alana and Karl peaked from behind him, both looking equally unsure of how to continue. "A word. Now."

Will hesitated softly but dropped his hand from Charlotte and followed Jack from the room. Jack said nothing as he lead Will through the lush house and out the front door. They both stood in the snow, soft swirls of white mist floating with each of their breathes.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked viciously.

He looked utterly hateful and Will squared his jaw.

"What else am I going to do Jack?" Will asked in a frustrated glare. He flashed a nasty smile. "You have a better idea do you?"

"If Hannibal doesn't kill her," Jack snarled. "Than she's going to be eaten alive by Freddie Lounds."

"Oh I'm sorry Jack," Will retorted sharply. "Has that not already happened? Because from what those newspapers have done I'm pretty sure we are all miles past that-"

"Stop using her!" Jack bellowed. Will blinked and silenced. His eyes flickered over Jack. The man looked deadly serious. He was drawn tall, that vicious glitter was sparkling behind his eyes once more. It was only when Jack had that look that Will remembered that he was not a man to be trifled with.

"I'm not-"

"You are," Jack interrupted Will's lie. "You used to feel normal, to anchor yourself, to make yourself feel like you had it together. She has been through so much at Hannibal's hands already Will and you are leading her in to danger if you marry her and you-"

"I'm trying to protect her," Will interrupted as he glanced away.

"He _killed_ your child," Jack said with a horrified glance. "You _can't_ protect her."

Will knew in his hearts of hearts that Jack was right but he couldn't hear that. Not yet.

He had failed Abigail and Beverly, the idea of having another woman in his life sacrificed at the hands of Hannibal Lecter was too much to bare, especially if that woman was his Charlotte.

"I'm going inside Jack," Will said coldly. "If you cared about her at all you would have protected our baby."

Will knew that was an unbelievably cruel thing to say but his rage blocked his ability to stay kind. He could see that Jack silently blamed himself for that but a silent truth and a spoken one are oceans apart.

Jack blinked softly, looking utterly anguished at such a comment. Will knew Jack considered him not only a colleague but a friend who shared the deepest bond in their quests for justice. Will however felt bitter that Jack felt he had been wronged as much as he had. Jack had gotten his trainee back, Will would never get his pseudo daughter Abigail Hobbs back, nor would he get to hold his beautiful child.

He had failed her so many times. If Charlotte wanted to marry him than he would. He didn't have the cruelness in him to say no. Will ventured back in to the house, not bothering to look back at the wounded Jack.

Will ventured through quickly to Charlotte. Hannibal was finishing bandaging her hand and she glanced up with a weak smile at her fiancé.

"Will-"

"We are leaving," he said flatly. "Get your coat."

"Oh Will," Charlotte said softly. "i'm ok. You don't need to-"

"We are going back to Wolftrap," Will said sharply. She flinched at his tone and glanced to Hannibal with a small twist of her mouth.

"We are going," she whispered and Hannibal nodded with a kind smile.

"Keep it covered for a few days, I don't think you need any stitches," he said calmly. She nodded and pulled a weak smile. "I will see you and Karl tomorrow at The Walters Art Museum."

She nodded and glanced to see an anxious and uninformed Will.

"I'm performing at a benefit," she said quietly. "_Mon amour _I told you."

Will didn't even pretend he knew. He simply threw his head to the doorway and she timidly slid from the kitchen counter and followed him. Karl snatched her uninjured hand as they walked behind the silently enraged Will.

"_Merci_ Hannibal," Charlotte whispered quietly as she followed the irate Will. "_À bientôt_."

"_Au revoir_," Hannibal said quietly, quashing his smirk of victory as the thin girl disappeared from view.

The drive home was silent between Charlotte and Will. Karl spoke almost non stop on his phone the whole way home. He fluctuated between Italian and French but Will knew exactly what he was speaking about because Charlotte's face had the same vicious calmness to it as it always did in the face of horrifying tragedy.

It was a blizzard when they arrived home and the three had to huddle to reach the house. Charlotte distractedly patted the dogs heads as they swarmed about her the moment they stepped the threshold.

"I'm going to go to bed," Karl said slowly. His eyes bore in to Will. Will couldn't bring himself to look at the French Man.

Charlotte looked up with a fresh weak smile at Karl.

"_Merci d'avoir été là_," Charlotte quietly murmured. Karl smiled weakly before trudging up stairs and leaving the couple in silence.

"It's really bad," Charlotte finally whispered.

Will nodded and the two stared at the staircase, neither daring yet to move.

"It is," Will agreed quietly. She fished for his hand with her uninjured hand and he snatched it tightly.

"I wanna go away," she whispered hotly.

"On holiday?" Will asked, still not baring to look at her. She shook her head and he glanced her head drop in his periphery vision.

"I want to leave," she whispered. "I don't want to be looked at like this anymore."

Will finally glanced to her and saw her staring intently at the floor.

"Looked at like this?" he asked quietly.

"The way you look at me," she whispered hotly. "Like I'm glass…"

Will felt a knot tie in his throat. His teeth gritted to swallow his agony as he saw her glaring intently at the cracks in the floor boards beneath her feet.

"You're not…."

She shook her head.

"I won't break," she whispered in a tiny, resentful voice.

There was a very tense moment till Will snatched her in to his embrace. She let out a small gasp, stiffening to his touch as he embraced her so tightly she felt she might suffocate. It was the first real contact he'd given her since he had been released form the BSHCI. She held her breath, her eyes wide till finally she crept a timid hand to rest on his side.

"We can move," Will whispered sharply. "Where ever you want to go. Tell me where to take you."

Charlotte hesitated before resting her head against his chest.

"Take me to bed," she whispered. Her eyes shone in a way that Will barely recognised. He wanted to ask if she was sure but the vivacity that lay in her gaze answered his question…

Afterwards, while she rested naked against the sheets, that beautiful peach and cream skin shining in the moonlight that spilled through the snow smattered windows, Will was left with nothing to hide behind. She had clung to him during, her eyes fluttering, her lips parted… She had whispered his name so reverently it had sounded as though she was praying. She loved him so purely, so honestly, that Will felt pain even laying a gaze upon her.

She was in danger.

There was no longer any fantasy to hide behind that she might be safe. If he did not die in Hannibal's grip than he knew she would. He had made the bed she now lay in, he had unintentionally lead the wolves to the door of their wolf trap home. Freddie Lounds had desolated her life, and Hannibal would take it. Charlotte would never forgive him for that. She would never be able to believe that he loved her after he spilled his blood to save her from Hannibal. She would see it as selfish vengeance.

Will silently accepted the lines that fate had drawn for him.

He was willing to die for her, with the knowledge of knowing that she would never believe that he loved her just as much as she loved him.


	17. Chapter 17

_The quiet before the storm has __arrived! Thank you for any continued support and reading, particularly the last couple of reviews. They were truly wonderful I really truly appreciate it. Please enjoy the newest Chapter xoxoxo _

**Chapter Seventeen**

Charlotte had arrived at Hannibal's office door at 7am just like he had requested.

He called her at six, smiling softly to himself at the grogginess in her voice but she hadn't argued. Hannibal had used her cationic snap at his dinner the night before as a perfect excuse to schedule an impromptu stroll through her psyche.

He had hidden his smile when he saw her perch hesitantly in the leather chair opposite his own. She was yet to adjust to him as a therapist. He had been insistent that they use the therapy space across the luxurious rug in the centre of the room. Charlotte had a tautness in her in those moments that hannibal breathed in. They gave him life, inspiration, and strength to see her so pressed beneath his boot.

Her hands folded in her lap and she refused to meet his gaze.

"How are you feeling Charlotte?" he asked evenly.

He noticed her bandaged hand twitch and her gaze shoot up to examine the drapes.

"Fine," she said tightly. She was not upset, nor weak. There was coldness in Charlotte Hannibal had not seen in her since Will had been released from the BSHCI.

and what a delicious development that was….

"How did your father die?" Hannibal asked.

He saw a hardness reach her gaze and a small curl caught his lips before he banished it away.

"A heart attack," Charlotte replied clinically. Her eyes traced back to Hannibal and she challenged his gaze with a strength that could rival Jack Crawford.

"How do you feel about that?" Hannibal asked softly.

"I don't feel anything about it," she said with detachment. Her gaze bore an emptiness and Hannibal felt his mouth twitch. She was fantastic when she was like this, so poised and so controlled. He had been beginning to worry she would break too early, that Will would whisk her away…

But his Charlotte was viciously strong as always. Cold. Nothing to lose.

_Dangerous_.

"How do you feel about Freddie Lounds?" Hannibal asked, pretending to change the subject.

"I wish her dead," Charlotte said flatly. Her fingers picked lazily at some fluff that stuck to her stockings.

Hannibal's brow raised slightly at her candour. Charlotte was not a woman who held hatred to any esteem, so to hear such assuredness form her was a surprise.

"That's a strong statement," he said evenly.

"I know," she replied as she softly flicked some of her hair behind her ear.

"And how does Will feel about all of this?" Hannibal asked.

"He does what he does best," she said with a sigh. "He ignores it, I carry it."

"You sound upset about that."

She gave him a look that immediately silenced him on the subject of Will. In their few sessions of therapy it was becoming glaringly obvious that Charlotte would not discuss Will. She would speak of her father, of her work, and her nightmares; Will was a shadow, always close but never addressed.

Hannibal took the hint, jotted something down, and continued on.

"And Margot?" he asked, not bothering to look up at Charlotte.

"I like Margot," Charlotte said with a small smile, warming at the mention of her friends name. "To have a friend with nothing hidden from her… there something beautifully pure about the whole thing."

"Do you think you use her to feel better about your own childhood?"

"I don't use anyone," Charlotte responded sharply. Hannibal glanced up to see a very angry look in her eyes.

"You seem very intolerant to discussion this morning Miss Claude," Hannibal said evenly.

"You seem persistent," Charlotte retorted, narrowing her gaze.

Hannibal paused, his pen hovered above his paper, and he turned a careful stare to her. It was incredibly important that Charlotte did not consider him an agent of darkness, and he realised when faced with her hateful glare that he had pushed her too hard. She was yet to truly forgive him for abandoning her in her hour of need, and Hannibal could see the hurt touch her gaze whenever he played rough with her.

Charlotte was cornered, vulnerable, and victimised once again…

she was afraid and Hannibal knew he needed to be careful not to put her offside.

"Charlotte I'm sorry…." Hannibal said gently. "I am being insensitive… You must feel very isolated right now."

She closed her eyes before exhaling through her nose and turning her head away.

"I am tired," Charlotte lied. "That's all."

"I am your friend Charlotte," Hannibal tired to sooth but she threw him a look that silence him immediately.

Silence settled between the two and Charlotte's gaze flickered to her lap. Her mind was swirling with trouble but Hannibal Lecter had learnt a long time ago that he should not push her. Charlotte was vulnerable, which in turn made her unpredictable, and much more so; dangerous.

"A reporter called me today," Charlotte interrupted his musings as her eyes flickered upwards to drink in the stunning office interior. "He asked me if I wanted to be a mother… or if I worried that I'd have a son like the Aquitaine Wren."

"I know you wanted to be a mother Charlotte," Hannibal said smoothly. "No one is arguing that."

"They already have my number," Charlotte said flatly as her eyes shot back to Hannibal's even maroon gaze. "They'll start showing up at the house, at concerts, this won't be contained."

"Remember what you told Abigail," Hannibal said softly. "There will be other murderers, other crimes with more interest-"

"When?" Charlotte interrupted with a wry breath of laughter. "My father killed girls that looked like me, then my fiancé was arrested for killing girls that looked like me. I am violently attacked, I nearly die; Then I lose my _baby_. I stumble from one horrific tragedy after the next! Do you think that the papers will leave this _alone_?"

She stared expectantly at Hannibal and he let out a small sigh.

"I'm so sorry Charlotte-"

"You don't need to be," Charlotte said flatly. "Did we discuss everything you needed Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal hovered his hand above his paper and nodded slowly.

"Yes Charlotte," he said softly. "We did."

"Fantastic," she said as she stood swiftly. "Thank you for worrying about me Hannibal, but I can look after myself."

"I'm sure you can," he said easily as he stood smoothly. "However I am still attending your performance tonight."

Charlotte softened at that and her doe eyes met his. A small smile twitched at her lips and she flickered an appreciative gaze across him.

"There is kindness in your heart Doctor Lecter," she muttered as she softly pocked his chest. "Thank you for caring."

Such blindness from someone with such power of survival never stopped short to astound Hannibal. He blinked at his tiny French friend and smiled across her. She was so fragile with in her own body, but he was beyond relieved that she had a flicker of fire about her again. He'd worried when he'd ended the life of her unborn child that he'd snubbed that flame but her anger had reignited the moment Freddie Lounds published those words.

She was dangerous, ruthless, and unpredictable.

She was everything Hannibal liked in a person and he couldn't wait to see how she held herself in public that evening.

Charlotte had made a fantastic effort with her appearance for that evening. Singing the Queen of the Night Aria from Mozart's the Magic Flute as her suggested piece, she had dressed to match the theme to perfection. She wore her dramatic black ball gown and every piece of gloriously gauche diamond jewellery her aristocratic grandmother had gifted her. Cattier, Harry Winston, and every other respected jeweller from the last century clung to her as she swept her hair up and drew dark thick flicks of eyeliner on to her eyes. She purposefully wore black, elbow length gloves, covering the cuts she had sustained on her right hand. The worst thing that could happen to her now was a suggestion that she was not coping or worse, that she was in danger.

Charlotte stiffened at that idea as she teased her hair in her Baltimore bathroom mirror. She drunk the final creation with pride. A costume in theme, yet gloriously elegant, she surely could be considered Queen of the Night. She stepped out and smiled warmly to see her brother chatting excitedly with Margot on her living room sofa. The two had incidentally met when Margot had dropped around unexpectedly two hours before her performance. She had brought wine and a sympathetic frown that made Charlotte love her damaged little friend even more. She had apologised profusely when she'd left to fuss across her appearance, but Karl had been more than eager to look after the Verger girl.

"He's charming," Margot commented as Charlotte entered the living room. "But that from your brother doesn't surprise me."

"You look beautiful," Karl said before Charlotte could make a sharp comment. Charlotte tilted her head and smiled softly at him. "Grandmama would be delighted to see you wear so much of her jewellery."

"I'm sure she would be," Charlotte chuckled lightly. "Are you two ready to leave?"

Karl nodded and stood, offering to help Margot up. The two smiled softly at one another and Charlotte felt a sigh of relief run over her lips. She was desperate for Karl to like the people in her life, and to see him get along so flawless with one of her closest friends made Charlotte's heart hum.

"Let's face the lions," Charlotte uttered as the trio left the house.

They'd arrived and rallied outside of the Baltimore Art museum. Charlotte had driven Karl, who had given her a pep talk illustrating how fantastic she was like only Karl could, while Margot had driven her Porsche just behind them. Charlotte hid any trace of anxiety as she swept in to the cocktail reception, her head held high and her demeanour dripping intimidation.

Hannibal and Mrs. Komeda had spotted her almost immediately and offered a smile, while anyone else she passed simply murmured quietly. Charlotte inwardly frowned when she noticed the tension not register to Margot. Charlotte supposed that is what Margot lived with on a daily bases, and Charlotte felt her fondness for her blue eyed friend grow ten fold.

"I think you look beautiful," Mrs. Komeda said firmly as she strolled up quickly to Charlotte. "_Stunning_. I wouldn't listen a thing those papers say, you're still _my_ Charlotte."

Charlotte smiled softly at the older woman, her severe haircut and low-cut gown never being a more comforting sights to Charlotte in her entire life.

"Thank you," Charlotte said softly. "I appreciate that."

"Good evening," Hannibal said as he greeted each and one of the trio with a hand shake. "Charlotte, you look a vision."

"Thank you," she said as she held her head a little higher. Hannibal felt a smile stretch his lips as she glanced down her.

She certainly was on the offensive. She looked utterly stunning, a vision in her swimming layers of tightly fitted chiffon, her diamond jewellery sparkling in the light, and her eyes fiercely challenging anyone to pity her. If her outfit said anything, it was but one thing; Charlotte Claude was not a Victim. Her very posture challenged every single person in that crowded function room to call her so, and each and everyone of them would fail.

The party of five stayed almost exclusively together till Charlotte was called away to perform. Mrs. Komeda's hands wrapped protectively around Charlotte's, utterly refusing to let anyone near her.

"Vampires," she snapped angrily. "Each and everyone of them."

Charlotte had been easy with her and Hannibal while Karl continued to entertain the ever uncomfortable Margot Verger.

When Charlotte was called away to prepare for her performance the foursome sat in silence, surrounded by an army of judgemental onlookers through each of the average aria's. Hannibal felt his patience stretch to near breaking as he glanced around to see people shooting him curious looks. His anonymity at the Opera was always his favourite thing, and now thanks to Freddie Lounds he was practically as famous as Charlotte for simply speaking to her during the evening.

However, his irritation evaporated almost immediately when Charlotte finally took the stage as the headlining performer.

The lights dimmed, the spotlight blared, and Charlotte stood centre stage a vision of strength. Any air of condescending pity was blown away as the first few notes left her mouth. Hannibal slowly closed his eyes and absorbed the beauty of her voice. It had been so long since he'd heard her sing he'd all but forgotten it but as she effortlessly glided through the melody of a woman intent on getting her vengeance, Hannibal had never felt a stronger connection to Charlotte.

She sung it with a vehement conviction that caused the crowd to hold their collective breath. Each sound was punctured perfectly, pierced with a skill that can only be attributed to natural gift.

Charlotte was made for the Opera and she was taking no prisoners in her pursuit to prove it.

As the last few german words spilled down her lips and floated across the audience the orchestra, overshadowed by her tremendous talent, crashed in a triumphant crescendo.

When the music stopped she simply raised her chin and looked across the crowd as though daring them to pity her.

Silence stretched till the audience erupted in rapturous applause that drowned the room in praise.

They stood and applauded till everyone's hands were red and sore. She smiled easily in response, dropping to a deep and graceful curtsey, before exciting the stage. As the light glowed on Hannibal glanced to see a stunned Karl and Margot to his right.

"I didn't realise she'd gotten so good," Karl muttered in shock while Margot's eyebrow jutted.

"My brother really wasted her making her sing all those jaunty Français tunes," Margot said in the same drawl she always spoke in.

"She's got a voice of an angel," Mrs. Komeda commented with a relieved sigh. "She's _so_ fantastic."

Hannibal softly noted that Mrs. Komeda's relief was probably driven almost entirely by her relief that her bet on Charlotte had not been a poorly placed one. She was simply happy her reputation in the operatic community would not be compromised by Charlotte's unfortunate run in with the Media.

Hannibal was inspired by the violence of Charlotte's voice and stood swiftly with a curt nod to his fellow audience.

"I really do have to go," he said. "I have a late appointment with an unstable patient that I can not break. Tell Charlotte I am very proud of her."

Nobody seemed roused by his lie as he swept from the building, a fired passion for chaos burning bright in his heart.

Charlotte herself did not notice Hannibal's absence till much later. She was too busy being passed from person to person, each claiming a bond with her, each gloating that they knew her first. The only interruption had been when Margot had tapped Charlotte's shoulder and told her she had to go. Charlotte embraced her tightly and thanked her once more for her support.

"Can we go?" Karl asked sullenly. He looked horrifically bored and Charlotte couldn't help but pull a small frown.

"_Non Kar_l," She scolded softly. "You know this."

"I'll take him home," Margot said as her blue eyes flickered across Charlotte's handsome older brother. "If he likes."

Charlotte's mouth twisted but she conceded, diving her hand in to her clutch back and fishing out the keys to her Baltimore abode.

"Not Wolf Trap," Charlotte said carefully. "It's so far Margot. Just to mine ok?"

"Will you be coming home?" Karl asked as his flickered down his new blue eyed friend.

"I should go home to Will," Charlotte sighed. "I'll come and get you first thing tomorrow."

Karl smiled and kissed her gently on her cheek.

"You were glorious," Karl whispered and Charlotte smiled softly, her eyes fluttering to his as he pulled away.

"Behave," she simply replied as her eyes shot to Margot.

"I'm married," he said sharply, glaring at the suggestion. Charlotte raised her hands in mock apology.

Karl threw Charlotte one more offended look before following the tiny brunette acquaintance away.

Charlotte had spent the rest of the night circulating the room, smiling wistfully at poor jokes, and flattering anyone who was anyone. The only thing mildly eventful was when Charlotte walked to her car at midnight, only to be blinded momentarily by the flash of Camera. She glanced up and gave a deep frown when she saw Freddie Lounds hovering at the bottom of the staircase that lead out of the beautiful museum.

"You do cultural coverage now?" Charlotte asked coldly, hatred dripping from her words as Freddie gave her a smug smile.

"People are interested in you Charlotte," she said simply as she snapped a fresh photo. "You should be flattered."

Charlotte stilled before stepping to the woman. She stood only an inch away and she saw Freddie Lounds stiffen with surprise at how quickly Charlotte had moved.

"You illuminated to the world every inch of agony I have ever suffered," Charlotte whispered with deathly softness. "Whatever lies in your heart Miss LOunds, it is cold, and black, and shrivelled because you have given me not an inch of empathy."

She stepped away to see Freddie eyeing her with a discomfort. Charlotte was surprised her words had caused any effect at all, but she hid that.

"You have used the _loss of my child_ Freddie to get _views_," Charlotte said pointedly. She wasn't angry, just hurt, and she could see Freddie Lounds bristle with discomfort. The usually ferocious and vivacious journalist could take many things. She could take hatred, threats, and violence, but the act of such pure anguish had taken her off guard.

"Just stay away from my family Miss Lounds," Charlotte said coldly. "You and your pack of journalists. Tell them not to call me anymore."

"I could speak for you," Freddie proposed, taking a step towards Charlotte. Charlotte leant back and shook her head slowly in disbelief at the woman's doggedness.

"You already did," she said and moved swiftly and gracefully to the car.

It was only when she was driving down the abandoned back roads of Virginian farm land that Charlotte allowed herself to scream.

She slammed her hands against the steering wheel, her cheeks flushing pink as a stream of French profanity tore across the silence of her car. She hated Freddie Lounds with a passion she did not think possible. Her life, so carefully constructed to preserve her peace was being tainted with every second passed. Punctured and bleeding, the very life blood of her happiness was spilling across everything she had ever held. Karl would go soon, and once again she would be left allied-less in a sea of enemies. She could not lean on the unstable Margot, Hannibal had a history that rendered him biased and unclear in his intentions, and Will was a stranger. She missed him desperately because the new, silent, ruthless man she lived with was not him. He had cracked last night and given her passion but the moment the morning sun light had poured through he was the same distant creature he had been before. So Charlotte could think of nothing else to do but scream till her lungs could not take air and her face burned. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed, till finally, as she pulled up outside of her silent Wolf Trap home she felt somewhat less frustrated with the mess her life had become. She took a moment to steady herself before stepping out of the car. She caught her reflection in the car window and frowned at the rose red of her cheeks. Will would notice that she'd been screaming and she wasn't ready for that conversation, so instead she took a hand full of freezing snow and pressed it against her face. It made her hiss but it did the job. The heat evaporated and instead she was left looking bitten by winter wind.

She ventured through the still, crisp snow, her black coat wrapped tightly about her and took a deep breath before entering her home. The dogs scampered and frantically barked as she entered, causing her eyebrows to furrow in worry.

"What's wrong?" she chided softly with her flurry of furry friends. Her eyes widened in shock as she dropped down to snatch a bandaged buster in her grip.

"_Oh no_!" she whispered quietly to her little fury friend. Her usually boisterous pet whimpered and curled to her grip, allowing her the rare courtesy of holding him with ease. She shushed him, her lips pressed to her head as she stood slowly. There was something terribly wrong and it took her a long moment to realise what it was.

The house was as cold inside as it was out.

She glanced about the room and her heart froze when she caught the broken window, the shards of glass littered across her living room floor glimmering in the moonlight. She hesitated, her mind to closed with fright to acknowledge what could have possibly happened.

It reached instead one simple, easy conclusion. There was only one thing Charlotte could do.

Charlotte Claude called Jack Crawford.


	18. Chapter 18

_I'm trying my best to keep it canon so please be patient. I hope you enjoy the newest chapter, thank you for readying! x _

**Chapter Eighteen**

Will sat in silence in Hannibal Lecter's kitchen.

Stunned, numb, and so removed from the body of the man he had killed laying on Hannibal's kitchen table. Not the first dead body to be lain on Hannibal Lecter's dining table of course, not by a long shot. It was however the first that Will had placed at the alter of a man so evil.

_Even Steven._

The two innocuous words played on repeat in his numb mind. He had taken lives before. He had slain Garret Jacob Hobbs but that had been different. He had caught his madness, he'd drunk in the mans life and lost his own power. This had been different.

Intimate. Controlled. Will had felt known.

For a split second in a tirade of violence Will had felt his heart slow and his self slip. He had dreamt the stag, but the stag wasn't dead.

The stag was fixing his hand. Tenderly, almost lovingly, Hannibal Lecter patted each scrape dry and wrapped warm gauze around them. For what should have been an act that changed him Will felt little remorse. He felt like he had done what needed to be done. He had felt powerful.

However a question hung in the air between them. A dark, ominous swirl that clung to their skin like the rain.

Where had Charlotte been?

Hannibal didn't know how long he'd left his little opera delight alone at the event when he left. He didn't know if she'd gotten home before he had. He didn't know if she had seen Will slay Randall Tier. He didn't know if she'd survived his moment of heedless delight.

This hadn't been planned if he was honest. Hannibal Lecter lived in a world where everything happened for no reason at all, so he may as well be that reason. He had sent Randall, he had controlled the fate of the two men in that moment. One was to die but Hannibal would hold the soul of whoever perished.

He was the closest thing to God Will Graham would ever see, but he was not God. He did not see all. He did not know if Charlotte had been home.

"Where is Charlotte tonight?" Hannibal finally asked conversationally. So removed. So calm and relaxed the question carried no weight at all. Will stayed numb on the outside, his blue eyes burning a neutrality that Hannibal Lecter could not chew through. Inside his blood sparked in rage that Hannibal could ask so casually if he'd killed Charlotte or not.

"She wasn't home," Will finally replied. He didn't look up or address it properly.

"What will she think when she comes home?" Hannibal pushed with the same even tone he said everything in. Hypnotic and calming as always.

But he did not calm Will.

Not anymore.

"I don't know," Will replied, employing the same detached voice as before.

The silence hung as Hannibal finished his work. Will opened and closed his fists, stretching his long fingers and flexing his arms.

It was hard to imagine that his knuckles had taken the breathe from somebodies lungs.

There was still something unsaid though. Still something heavy and sticky clinging to Will the way blood does. Drying and cracking but never falling away.

He had to know.

"Why haven't you killed Charlotte?"

The words left his mouth without his permission. Will had no fear that the question would inspire violence. He did not underestimate Hannibal Lecter. His sharp, cunning mind would have of course considered such an option with relish but he would not be encouraged to act off of a question so plainly obvious.

That would be boring.

And boring was unspeakably ugly to Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal seemed to consider Will's point for a long moment as he stilled by the young mans side. He had many reasons of course. Vast and plentiful but none that summed up his decision in only a few words.

"What makes you think I could kill Charlotte?" Hannibal asked almost casually and Will finally met his gaze with a disdainful look that made Hannibal's lips twitch with pleasure.

"Don't lie to me Doctor Lecter," Will said with vicious quietness. His tone betrayed his anger and Hannibal felt a trickle of warm pride fill him.

"If Charlotte were to die Will," Hannibal said softly, deciding his young friend deserved the courtesy of an answer. "I don't think you could survive it."

That was the crux of his decision. Charlotte was interesting, talented, cultured, kind; it seemed a waste to Hannibal Lecter to slay something that had not earned it. It seemed a waste of life and air to take away from the world someone who inarguably made it better. Hannibal loved beauty and he did not take pleasure in crushing it. Killing and butchering Charlotte Claude, carving away her soft skin, her doe eyes, her pouted pink lips, soiling her soft brown hair and high cheek bones, her long lashes and the delicate lines of her face with blood… That just didn't seem worth it. It didn't serve his purpose. It didn't serve himself. He enjoyed her. He enjoyed seeing a woman so strong, who had endured so much, and had survived to thrive so well gave him deep pleasure. Hannibal loved strength in others. He loved potential and Charlotte was drowning in it. An unread book full of secrets and hidden treasures. She was alive with shadows and demons that Hannibal knew he would take immense pleasure in unpacking and then using for his own purpose. He adored such an idea. He flourished in it.

Despite all such deep, almost unquestionable points his reasoning was truly mono-cognitive. Will was a survivor as well. He was a man who could take the world. A man who could not only see others but feel them; their pain, their fears and their madness. He was a man so complicated and dense that Hannibal felt Will could survive nearly anything.

He had survived Garret Jacob Hobbs, Abigail, Beverly, his unborn child-

But not Charlotte.

Hannibal was no fool. Of course he had begun with the idea that Charlotte was Will's greatest weakness but now that he had seen her, and he had seen Will he knew that her destruction would not cause an awakening in Will that he desired. It would break him. Splinter him in to an unrecognisable madman. The loss of his Charlotte Claude would be singlehandedly the worst way Hannibal could change Will. He would lose Will if he were to do that. He would lose everything he'd worked so hard for.

Hannibal's maroon gaze turned back to Will to see sinking understanding fill his friends features.

"I wouldn't," Will said. It was not a prayer, or begging, it was just fact. Will knew that as well as Hannibal did. He could not survive her.

Those twirling thoughts however were abandoned in the face of the more urgent matter at hand.

The urgent matter of Randall Tier. Dead. Laying on Hannibal's dining room table.

What were they to do about that.

Of course it had all been Hannibal's ideas. Hannibal's influences. Hannibal's doings.

What was done was done. Will had returned to Wolf Trap a changed man. A stranger in his own skin. He knew so little anymore of what was right and wrong. He could no longer know who he was anymore.

His mind had run mostly blank on the long drive. It was near one in the morning so exhaustion quickly squashed many of his neurosis. He simply drove, going through the motions, pretending he was driving back from her a regular day in Baltimore.

It was only when Will pulled up at his sailboat on the field that panic gripped him. The sight of the glint that his headlights sparked off of Jack's black SUV made Will's mind drown.

_Why was Jack there? He had to tell Jack. How was he going to tell jack?_

Will parked the car a little way form the house, making sure not to make his entrance obvious. He walked slowly up the yard, the crisp snow crunching under his feet. The dogs swarmed him. Barking and licking Will had shushed them softly, giving distracted pats to each of their fluffy heads. He entered the house and spotted the shattered glass over the floor. There was only a little blood left from what he had done. Randall hadn't really bleed like he had expected. Just smears.

He moved slowly through the house. His ears were pricked for noise, for any indication of life in the walls. Will was light on his feet as he moved towards his bedroom. Charlotte's soft voice met him and he felt a rush of relief. She must have called Jack. She had called Jack and _not_ Hannibal.

Will opened the door slowly, careful not to startle her-

He blinked rapidly as Charlotte turned, unseeingly, and pointed his old revolver straight in his face.

Will had seen many people pull guns with only a moments notice. They always shook or shivered. A fear always caught their gaze, a tremble always caught their hands. They never did it with conviction or ease. They always looked pained.

Charlotte did not.

Her fingers didn't inch, her face did not twitch. She had buster curled to her one hand, the wounded animal held to her breast, and a gun placed squarely to his head.

Will unconsciously raised his hands. A look of utter shock crossed his features till Jack Crawford stepped forward and gently lowered Charlotte's gun.

She blinked in shock at the movement, looking utterly astonished that she had acted so unthinkingly.

"Will," she said quietly, blinking rapidly as she shook her head feverishly. "I am so sorry."

"Jack?" Will asked, turning an almost bleary gaze to his old boss. He completely ignored Charlotte's apology.

"Charlotte called me," he said. "We were just discussing if we should call CSU."

Will shook his head slowly as he stepped forward.

"No," he said. "It was a coyote."

Will looked at them easily, absorbing their reactions. Charlotte gave him nothing, her beautiful face staying a blank canvas as she stilled tried to process her reaction as Jack slowly slid the gun away from her grip. Jack looked less unmoved. A darkness took his features at the obviousness of Will's lie and he caught his gaze in a way that made Will shirk.

"A coyote?" Jack asked. Will nodded.

"It's rare, but it saw buster outside, and it must have been rabid because it broke the window to get to him," Will said convincingly. "I had to wrestle it off of him."

"Right," Jack said flatly. "A coyote."

Charlotte wasn't even sure she knew what a coyote was, let lone if one could break down her glass window, but in that exact moment she didn't care. At all. She just wanted to go to bed.

"Fine," she said in a small voice. "Fine."

She passed the trembling Buster to Will, not noticing his bandaged hands. Jack did.

"I'm having a shower," she said quietly, turning to their ensuite. "Jack. Thank you."

Jack nodded to her as she disappeared behind the oak door and snapped it closed. His heavy gaze turned back to Will who allowed a hardness to settle him now Charlotte was out of view.

Jack waited for the sound of spurting water to begin before speaking.

"I don't believe you," he said in a low voice.

"You shouldn't," Will said quietly, before gesturing to t he door way so the two could speak of what had happened outside, and in private.

Will had told him enough. Not everything. Enough.

As they stood in the cold Will watched Jack's face fall with a sinking dread that did not suit his embossing prowess.

Will told him enough to implement himself, but nothing solid enough to implement Hannibal. Nothing dangerous. Will did not feel now was the time for his reckoning. He would not allow Jack to enact it before he did. This was not his power.

Jack listened and nodded, seemingly deaf to the horror that Will told him.

Finally, when Will's speech was over Jack spoke.

"Tomorrow," is all he could manage. "We will discuss it tomorrow."

Will nodded his understanding and turned back to the house, not bothering to wave goodbye to the horrified Jack Crawford. He knew he should feel what Jack did but he did not. Randall Tier was a man who made the nightmares of children real. He was a monster, an animal, and he had met a deserving end. Will tired to clear such violent imagery form his mind as he slowly walked up the staircase to his bedroom.

Charlotte was already curled to the sheets when he arrived. Dozing quietly, he caught a glance of her beautiful face and felt his heart soften. He moved slowly, undressing quietly till he remained in only in his almost characteristic white t-shirt and blue boxers. He was careful as he climbed in to bed not to wake her but he failed. Her eyes fluttered open and to his surprise she smiled.

She smiled lovingly and slowly licked her lips as she stifled a yawn.

"Hey," she breathed against the midnight air. The darkness hid the frantic look in his blue eyes. It hid his fear that she not believe the tale of the coyote and instead would see him as her father.

"Hello," Will said softly. Charlotte didn't need much more encouragement than that. She cuddled to him so closely he could smell the fear on her skin. Her fingers wove to his curly hair, her lips pressed to his collarbone. Her tiny body snatched as much of his as it could and he could hear the way her breathing caught.

He didn't argue her. He simply wrapped his arms to her waist and felt her wiggle and settle against him.

"I was thinking about that summer," she whispered softly. "The first one here. When you taught me to swim."

Will's lips twitched when she said that. He remembered that summer very well. Those memories had become a refuge for him in his hours of need in prison. He would picture her in thin summer dressed, perspiration pressed to her exposed skin, and her hair pulled in to a messy curling bun above her crown.

Will remembered that she wasn't living with him yet but she spent most days there. He took her walking around the woods, through trees and long grass. She'd get so excited when they spotted a dear or a racoon or anything not native to her home of France. He explained different kinds of fish to her, explained how the grass grew and where the birds hid away from the heat.

His fondest memory had been teaching her to swim. She had been so afraid and hesitant, dipping her toes in the softly swirling water of the river. Will had stood in the middle, beckoning her, laughing softly at her timidness. Charlotte, his warrior of a woman, was too afraid to wade in to water that wasn't even neck high. He had held arms to her and she'd finally gotten the courage before softly paddling to him and sighing a huge sigh of relief when he wrapped his arms around her. She'd nuzzled close, peppering soft kisses over his wet shoulder. He'd simply chuckled once more, placed a soft kiss a top her head and told her that he was proud.

They'd fall asleep in the beating hit mid afternoon, tangled in each other through thin sheets and opened windows. They let that cool summer air lick their exposed skin.

Will's blue eyes sought her gaze in the darkness and he smiled back at her, seeing a content beam pressed to her pink lips.

"You still don't know how to swim," he said quietly with a little chuckle. She wiggled close again, her lips curled against his skin as she clung to him tighter, breathing him in.

"I tried," she muttered. "That isn't the point. I miss that summer."

"We could move somewhere where it's always summer," Will mused softly without thought, a hand coming to stroke the back of her head.

"Where is it always summer?" she asked softly, her lips brushing to his skin.

"We could go to the south of Italy," Will muttered. "Or Miami. We could go to Australia? Or we could fly and live-"

"Where ever you want," Charlotte said sleepily. "I'd go anywhere with you."

Charlotte's blind devotion to him, while his blood still ran rampart with the fact he had just taken a mans life with nothing but his fists, settled heavy against Will's chest.

"Charlotte," Will whispered quietly. He wasn't sure if it was adrenaline, fear, or the exhaustion. "Do you ever think about having another baby?"

He felt her whole body stiffen as he said it. Will had been thinking about it for days and days. After Hannibal's unsaid comment tonight that he had in fact survived loosing their unborn child the idea ached his chest. He wanted another baby. He wanted that fantasy. When Hannibal was buried in the dust, if he could survive it, then he would have a golden light to see through the darkness.

"Of course," she finally answered. Her fingers wrapped tighter to him, her breath catching as she spoke. "Will how could you ask that? Of course I-"

"No," he soothed gently, thumbing back some of her hair. "No I was just wondering if we should."

She was very quiet for a very long time. Will's hands softly brushed over her hair. She cuddled closer still for sighing deeply.

"Not just yet," she said in a tiny voice.

"Ok," Will soothed softly. "Of course Charlotte…."

"If it was a girl, I wanted her middle name to be Abigail," Charlotte admitted in a tiny voice.

Will kissed Charlotte's head but gave no response.

"I think someone should remember her," Charlotte said a little more firmly. "I would have remembered her."

Will nodded softly. He breathed her in, enjoying the way she smelt like the earth after the rain. She smelt like home and safety. A stark contrast from what Will was taking from her.

"We will try again," Will promised her softly. "Just not yet."

She nodded and cuddled closer. The way the lines of her body moulded to his, the way her hair tickled his skin, it made his heart burst with love for her. Her lips pressed to his neck and she sighed quietly.

"I just really love you Will Graham," Charlotte breathed.

This was not the moment to steal comfort from her. Will closed her eyes tightly and nodded quietly.

"I love you too," Will told her gently.

She lovingly sighed against his skin before falling asleep, drifting peacefully away as Will held her.

He simply wrapped her tighter, kissed her head, and prayed his Charlotte would never know a thing about Randall Tier.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen **

Charlotte had taken Karl's departure to France with a silent bitterness that only Karl could feel.

He had only stayed a few more nights after the unspoken events of Randall Tier before his wife Maria had called him home. The newspapers were at her door and she could no longer cope with the pressure.

All though Charlotte understood it, she didn't like it. Nor did she have to like it. Karl had embraced her tightly at the airport as she had looked up with her eyes full of angry tears. It was moments like that Karl truly saw his baby sister. Short tempered, stubborn, and fiercely adoring he couldn't help but smile down upon her. Will stood off to the side, staring at the flickering departure board with an intensity it didn't earn. Will watched the two siblings from the corner of his eye, concerned for Charlotte's safety to see her greatest protector disappear to the other side of the globe once more. Will watched Karl pause thoughtfully before whispering something in French to Charlotte. His ears had perked to see Charlotte stiffen against her brother's warm embrace. She turned pale, bid goodbye in an utterance, and was silent for the next two days.

She wouldn't tell Will what had been said.

His fiancé was already burdened with unsaid words but Will's worry that such secrets had been about him faded over the following two weeks. Charlotte unconsciously followed him around the house. She called him during the day just to see how he was. She would meet him outside of Hannibal's office after his appointments, standing wrapped in her red coat with a loving smile painted across her face. She ate in diners with him, tucked away in the back, and away from any recognising eyes. Charlotte seemed happy with him for the first time in a very long time. She was beautiful when she laughed and smiled. He'd teased her for mispronouncing 'focus', making it sound much more vulgar than it was, when they walked across the fields of their wolf trap home, the dogs yapping at their ankles. She had laughed and softly pushed him before falling against him, allowing his arm to sling over her shoulder as she snuggled close, their feet crushing crisps snow in unison.

She was avoiding everyone but him, and of course Margot. The two young women would walk for hours in his fields and curl up on cold nights in front of the fire while they whispered secrets to each other. Charlotte had even gone to Muskrat Farm once or twice to indulge in some riding.

Will drove to pick her up on a dry and cool Sunday afternoon. He frowned at the imposing house as he passed it, parking by the closest meadow. House would not be the right word to describe Margot Verger's home. Castle would be _much_ more apt.

Will left his car and strolled to stand and watch by the fence as Margot and Charlotte waltz across cold snow on chestnut beasts. Will watched his graceful love with a funny pleasure he couldn't underpin. He gave very little thought to the tragedy of her childhood, he often overlooked the fact se'd grown up on a farm; _Of_ _course_ she knew how to ride a horse. Charlotte's tinkling laughter echoed to him and made an unthinking smile curl his lips.

"You must be beloved Charlotte's _fi-an-cé_," a rasping, theatrical voice called. Will looked back coolly to see a young man clutching a pig, his blonde hair sparked and flurried around his face.

"Will Graham," Will responded flatly.

"Mason Verger," the man said with a wry grin. "You're more handsome then I expected, given how _damaged_ that Charlotte girl must be. Imagine _that_ for a father huh? A ritualistic serial killer inspired by her? _Flattering_!"

Mason laughed cruelly at his own joke and Will smiled with an evenness that made Mason twitch.

Will said nothing. He'd heard whispers about the Verger family. He had heard chatter of what monstrosities Mason Verger had committed.

"Thank you," Will responded easily. Mason cackled, moving to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with Will as he two watched the two petite women swirl and canter across the snow.

"She gives Margot _ideas_," Mason mused, stretching and emphasising sounds that he did not need to make.

Will's eyes traced to see Charlotte softly stroke down the horses mane, cooing to the giant animal lovingly.

"Not Charlotte, but someone we all have in common," Will responded quietly. Mason paused at such a comment, eyeing Will sharply with his icy blue gaze.

"Who would we all have in common Mister Graham?" Mason asked, barely suppressing his anger that he may be left out of something.

_What a spoilt, cruel man_.

"Doesn't your sister have to a see a psychiatrist?" Will asked, his voice raising at the end of the question with a twitching grin.

Mason's eyes widened and he frowned dramatically.

"Doctor Lecter?" Maosn asked.

"He's got _a lot_ of ideas," Will said casually, rolling a gaze to the young man. "Very inspiring individual."

Mason nodded slowly, smiling darkly at such a suggestion. The silence lulled between them for a moment till a cold smirk stretched across Mason's pale face.

"Did you know that you can breed a pig to eat a person?" Mason suddenly asked, his eyes flashing in delight at conversation so cruel.

"I'm sure Hannibal Lecter would be fascinated by that," Will said with a quiet conviction that made Mason tilt his head.

Before he could answer a feminine voice interrupted-

"_Bonsoir mon amour_," Charlotte called sweetly to Will as the horse trotted to the fence. It neighed and its hoof pulled at the frozen ground. Charlotte didn't let her mask of civility fall in the face of Mason Verger. "Good afternoon Mister Verger, I hope the day finds you well."

"Charlotte," Mason called with a tone of over familiarity that made her bristle. "What's the French word for _pig_?"

Charlotte's eyes fluttered to the piglet clutched to his coat.

"_Le cochon_," she answered with a tilt of her head.

"Thank you my beautiful French _friend_," Mason called with a nasty grin. She smiled back weakly.

Will and Charlotte had not spoken about Mason on the drive home, but Charlotte's anxiety washed away as she dreamily gazed out the window and softly stroked her fingers across the back of Will's hand.

Everything seemed to settle for Charlotte till a fortnight from the night she had found cracked and shattered glass spraying her living room floor. Jack Crawford had called Will to bring Charlotte in for questioning.

Jack had called, explaining for appearances that Charlotte must be quizzed on Freddie Lounds's 'mysterious murder'. Will could not tell Charlotte it was for show and when he had awoken her with such news she'd given him a look of utter resentment.

She had sat in total silence the entire drive, sat taught and hateful in Will's passenger seat as he took her down to the B.A.U. She had dragged her feet behind Will as they walked through the all too familiar halls. To Will's pleasant surprise however she tangled her slender fingers in to his, keeping herself close to him.

They entered Jack's office to find Alana and Hannibal stood in collaboration together by the far wall. Jack sat behind his desk, an uncomfortable look upon his face. Will expected Charlotte to raise her chin, to spit fire, and cause a scene just as she always did but instead she wrapped tighter to him, avoided everyone's eyes and headed straight to sit beside Will in front of Jack. Even when they were sat down she refused to release his hand from her grip. She clung to him and Will watched it with interest.

But not as much interest as Hannibal.

He'd not seen Charlotte Claude at his door steps in two weeks. She'd cancelled both her previous appointments with apologetic emails pertaining to work. She made no effort to see him or contact him outside of that. There was an etiquette to her correspondence that felt forced and Hannibal wondered quietly if Charlotte Claude had begun to suspect him.

…Or if Will Graham had spilled his true nature to his delicate French lover.

Charlotte's lowered gaze and taught posture certainly added evidence to the fact. Jack had almost accosted her in aggressive interrogations when Will had been arrested, desperate for information. She'd faced it all with a coolness the mountain of a man couldn't level. To see her look so uncomfortable was almost jarring.

Will felt a cold tinge catch Charlotte's skin as her eyes drilled against Jack's nameplate on his desk, not daring to raise her gaze.

"Good morning Miss Claude," Jack said with a hint of kindness that made her wince. "Thank you for coming to speak to us."

She only nodded her response, still refusing to meet his gaze, still clinging Will's hand to hers.

"Did Will tell you what this is about?" Jack asked softly. She nodded, her gaze rolling to stare at the fern in the far corner of the room.

"Yes," she uttered. "He did. Freddie Lounds's death."

"Good," Jack said with a slight smile of comfort. "Miss Claude where were you on the afternoon of February the 3rd?"

"At rehearsals at the Joseph Meyerhoff symphony hall, from midday to nine pm. I then had dinner with colleagues at Jerry's Diner on North Charles street, and returned home to Wolf Trap at eleven pm," Charlotte stated firmly, clinically.

"We've marked Miss Lounds's disappearance at around three pm in Wolf Trap," Jack said. "So if your alibi holds out then you will no longer be of interest to the investigation-"

"Charlotte had more reason than anyone to see Freddie Lounds disappear," Alana sharply interrupted. Will threw her a vexed gaze while Charlotte pursed her lips and closed her eyes.

Will had noticed a change in Alana Bloom. There was a shakiness now that gripped her in a way that did not suit the strong woman. Her eyes searched everyone around her for deception, her tone always accusing and unsure. She had come to the house during the week and Will had handed her a gun and told her to learn how to shoot. Will had never seen such frantic panic in a woman's eyes as he did in that moment.

Alana was not ready to accept that Charlotte Claude did not know a thing about the murder of Freddie Lounds, because she could not accept that Hannibal Lecter did.

"I understand that Doctor Bloom, that's why we are asking her where she was," Jack said almost condescendingly.

"It would be understandable," Alana said as she took a few swift steps forward so she stood by the corner of Jack's desk, eyes burning in to Charlotte. "If you decided that you were angry. Maybe you acted with out thinking-"

"Alana," Hannibal said reproachfully.

"We could help you," Alana said forcefully, dropping her head slightly in an attempt to catch Charlotte's gaze. "Jack could help you-"

"Doctor Bloom," Jack warned carefully.

"If you did something you regretted-"

"I was at work," Charlotte said quietly. She still wouldn't meet her gaze. "I was not there."

"Charlotte," Alana said softly. "If the painful memories of your father-"

Charlotte's gaze snapped to Alana's with such ferocity it silenced the usually vivacious doctor.

"I did not harm her," Charlotte annunciated clearly. "But she was not a good person and the world will not miss her."

The cruelty of Charlotte's confession caused Alana to flinch. She stepped back, finally breaking Charlotte's vicious gaze.

"Is that all?" Charlotte asked quietly as her eyes sought Jack's. He gave a sad smile and a quick nod.

She stood sharply, still holding to Will and left without acknowledging a single soul. Will watched her carefully as she quickly shot through the glass door, tugging him behind her as she went.

"Charlotte," Will asked quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said firmly. "I want to leave."

"Ok," Will said gently. "Do you want to go home or-"

"_Charlotte_."

She froze in her tracks beside Will. He watched her doe brown eyes fill was frantic panic before she pushed it away. So quickly she changed under his eyes that he found it startling. She stood rooted to her place, before turning a cool gaze to the person who had called her name.

Hannibal Lecter took long strides to her, eyeing her with a cool fondness that made Will pause.

"Charlotte I need to speak to you," he said, his maroon gaze challenging her silently.

"Regarding what?" she asked with an equal casualness. His eyes flickered Will but she looked stubborn today. Her fingers were wrapped tightly to Will and Hannibal knew that he would not get her alone.

"You cancelled your last two appointments with me," he said slowly. "As your Doctor-"

"I don't need you to be my doctor anymore," Charlotte said quickly. She sounded as though she had scrounged all the courage left in her to say such a thing. In Will's whole life he had never seen Hannibal Lecter sincerely surprised but for a fleeting second a wide eyed stare caught the mans face before aloofness blew it away.

"You don't?" he asked evenly. Charlotte shook her head. Her hand wrapped tighter to Will's, and he could feel the tremble of her fingers.

"My fathers dead," Charlotte said, desperately trying to keep her voice even. "I've no reason to see anyone anymore. Karl spoke to Mama, she agrees with him."

"Did you decide this or did your family?" Hannibal asked her unwaveringly.

"Does it matter?" she asked quickly. "We will have to just be friends Hannibal. I'm sorry that Mama did not call you, Karl told me that she had."

"Very well," Hannibal said pleasantly enough. A look of ferocious anger that only Will could see however ran rampart behind his cool gaze. It made Will's lips twitch with pleasure. "I should have yourself and Will over for dinner sometime if you like."

"That would be lovely," Charlotte said. "Make sure you invite Alana."

A small, weak smile caught her lips.

Hannibal smiled easily enough as she bid him goodbye and led Will from the building.

He held his tongue till they reached the car park before softly tugging her hand and stopping in his tracks. She paused and glanced back, an anxious look plaguing her beautiful face.

"What just happened?" Will asked her.

"Nothing," She said, trying to turn to continue walking to the car. Will tugged her hand once more and she turned back with a soft, wounded gaze. She hated lying to him. It pained her.

"What did Karl say to you?" he asked softly. Charlotte looked at her feet, her mouth twisting as she chewed her unsaid words. She felt anxious to be anything but complimentary about Hannibal Lecter in front of Will of late. The two men had grown so close Will would visit him most nights after work and only return home just in time for late dinner. Charlotte didn't want to offside Will with Karl's last words to her.

"He said that Doctor Lecter reminded him of our father," she said in a tiny voice. Will's eyes swelled form understanding at such a confession. She looked utterly anguished to say the words aloud and Will softly cupped her face. Her fingers trembled and she looked at her shoes as though all the answers to all her problems were written across them.

Will realised with a pang of endearment that she wasn't just unnerved, she was embarrassed that she was afraid. How anyone as fierce and glorious as his Charlotte Claude could be embarrassed for feeling the normal human emotion of fear astounded Will Graham.

His hand cupped her face and she fluttered an uncomfortable gaze to him.

"I'm being silly-"

But he interrupted her with a soft, chaste kiss. Charlotte looked shocked when he pulled back, Will assumed mostly because he very rarely indulged a public display of affection. A small smile caught his lips when she blinked with wide eyed surprise.

"You have the right to feel safe Charlotte," Will said simply. He dropped his hand and lead her to the car, smiling internally to see her nod to herself as she silently agreed with him.

She still however fidgeted in the car, crossing nervous glances to Will when she thought he wasn't looking. Along a lonely patch of deserted highway she finally spoke.

"I'm sure Karl just said it because…" Charlotte said quietly. "Emotions were high."

"Of course," Will said softly.

"I don't remember _him_ in any capacity outside of stifling," Charlotte mentioned quietly. A distance caught her when she spoke of such things and Will threw paced gazes at her with concern. "Karl remembers him much better. Karl remembers him being funny and charming. He remembers a lot a more than I do."

"A lot of people are funny and charming," Will soothed carefully. Charlotte's mouth however twisted.

"No. He said Doctor Lecter… Hannibal…. has the…. _glitter_… of quiet violence that our father did," she said. Will heard the way her voice caught to say such a horrendous thing aloud. "Not that he's charming. That he's... _dangerous_."

"Charlotte," Will soothed softly. "Hannibal will understand if you need a little distance."

Charlotte shifted in her seat and lowered her gaze to her knees. Will hesitated. This was of course his perfect outcome. She had been frightened away from Hannibal Lecter without him having to manipulate her. He had to be careful in what he said. He couldn't make her feel stupid for having such a thought. He could not punish her or push her to swallow her fear. He instead smiled softly at her and placed his hand atop hers.

"If you like I'll have a word with him," Will said. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"No," Charlotte murmured. She relaxed at his understanding and Will felt a whoosh of relief. "It'll be ok. I just… I'll be ok."

Will smiled and nodded.

"I'll support you whatever you decide," Will said softly. "It's ok to trust your brother Charlotte."

She smiled softly at that, her eyes flickering to him with a kindness that made him feel human again.

For the first time in a long time, Will held subdued confidence that Charlotte Claude might be able to escape Hannibal Lecter's insidious reach.

**oooooooooooo**

_Thank you of course to anyone who reads, reviews, favourites, and follows. _

_A particularly big thank you to DoeEyedDarling for your last comment. I blushed, honestly, you're much too kind c:_

_If there is anything anyone would like to see in the story, or any plot point from the show they would like included let me know and I will do my best to oblige you. Thank you again for all your continued support my darlings, I truly appreciate it xoxo _


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty **

Charlotte was struggling to come to terms with Karl's words and her fondness of Hannibal Lecter. She could see Karl's reasoning as clear as glass but she wasn't sure she wished to. She wasn't sleeping well. When Will awoke form nightmares now he would frown to see that she would already be awake. She'd reach a gentle hand to him and stroke back his sweat soaked hair but she seemed empty and numb to such fear. Will found himself driving her back and forth to work. He was too worried to leave her be and he wasn't the only one who noticed the change. The director at her Opera company had pulled her aside during the week and asked her if she was ok. She'd nodded politely and given a convincing smile.

"I'm run down Marty," she told him softly. "I'm sorry if it's impacted my performance-"

"No! No you're perfectly professional," Martin Adams had corrected. "I just… we all worry about you."

"You don't need to."

That it seemed had become Charlotte's motto of preservation. When anyone would suggested that she did not seem well and that they were concerned, or worried she would smile politely and say 'you don't need to'. Everyone of course but Will. Will could see her cracking slowly and it made him anxious. He thought the moment she'd get away from Hannibal she would be safer but to his horror it was doing the exact opposite. She seemed to seem so lost and afraid that she could have been wrong about someone she trusted so much that she was pulling away from everyone. Only at night would she draw close to him. When darkness had painted the stars from the skies, and shadows pulled to the earth she would draw close to his side and he'd hear the uneven breathing of her fears beside him.

So she had visited Margot at his suggestion. She had hesitated on that Saturday but nodded. Charlotte's only argument had been if she was to drive. She had told him she could drive herself and she had done that accordingly. She'd listened to the radio in an attempt to ease her growing worry but it never came. Rest and peace never came to Charlotte. She thought as time passed like everything else she lived through it would come to peace but it never did. Her pain never quelled it just sat beneath the surface like a stifling, strangling fog.

She arrived at Muskrat Farm with a heavy heart that she did her best to hide. She knocked on the door and gave an easy smile to the staff that opened it. They'd greeted her with a naturalness she didn't like. She didn't feel she'd been there often enough to be such a fixture, and it saddened her that Margot had so few visitors that her handful of visits were considered 'often'.

Margot had greeted her with a stiff nod that caused a bemused smile to reach Charlotte's face.

"So formal," Charlotte teased softly. "Would you like to go for a ride Margot? I'd love to clear my head-"

"No," Margot interrupted sharply. "No. Could we speak outside?"

Charlotte felt unnerved by Margot's tone but smiled softly regardless. She held her hand to the young woman's back as the two stepped outside and in to the cold, avoiding the staff's prying ears.

"Is something the matter?" Charlotte asked softly the moment she deemed that their distance provided privacy.

"I can't go riding," Margot said, a resolve settling behind her sparkling blue eyes. Charlotte jutted a brow easily at the firmness of Margot's words.

"It's fine," Charlotte said with a light chuckle. "We can go for a drive, maybe you'd like to come over for lunch-"

"I'm pregnant."

Charlotte froze mid sentence at Margot's firm interruption. It cut her like a scalpel. Seething, vicious jealousy that threatened to drown her alive. Charlotte swallowed down the stray bile that had climbed her throat and gave Margot a very weak smile.

How dare she. How dare this young woman be with child when Charlotte had wanted hers with the kind of passion that she did not know she possessed. How dare Margot, who treated life so frivolously, who was so cold and aloof get the ultimate joy that was a child….

Charlotte hated herself for that pouring of involuntary thoughts. Her envy and jealousy to see Margot happy alerted her that it was not fair. Life wasn't fair. That wasn't a new fact for Charlotte, just a revised one.

"Congratulations," Charlotte managed as best she could. She could still see something in Margot's eyes. That confession had not unburdened her and Charlotte could sense that sticky sweetness that betrayal always brings….

And although Charlotte knew what words were formulating behind the pretty pink lips of Margot Verger she still was not prepared.

"It's Karl's."

Margot had expected screams or tears at such a confession but none came. Charlotte only greeted it with a quiet and disconcerting silence that made Margot's lips to twist in discomfort. The broken little woman moved from side to side, clenching and unclenching her gloved hands.

"He has a wife," Charlotte finally managed.

Such swirling hatred gripped Charlotte in a way that she barely knew. Margot had betrayed her, Karl had betrayed his wife, his child, and Charlotte's confidences. She felt the heated burn of hatred crawl her spine but her eyes could not leave Margot's face. She was attempting to stay aloof but Charlotte could see the panic that lay behind such a facade.

"I know," Margot said. "I'm telling because I will leave it at your discretion to tell him or not."

Charlotte blinked at such a burden. Had this woman, who claimed to be her friend, really just said such a thing? Had she shattered the last calm quarters of Charlotte's crumbling life all for a child? A child that shared Charlotte's own blood? The kind of bitter sting that came from something so cruel seared Charlotte.

"I can't tell him," Charlotte said in barely a breathe. "You know that."

She wished to scream, kick, cry, anything but nothing came. Silence settled the two and Margot shifted uncomfortably.

"I had good intentions-"

"Don't," Charlotte muttered. Any words Margot had left Charlotte didn't wish to hear. She simply turned and walked away.

It was on the drive that Charlotte's mind shattered. She had nothing left and her thoughts broke to the most basic of elements. She realised as she drove through Baltimore on her way home with a calm detachment that she and Will needed milk.

It was often in the most challenging times in Charlotte's life that she found the rituals of normality comforting. To others they served as numbing reminders of adequacy but Charlotte they were luxuries that she never thought she would enjoy. She had thought she would die beneath her fathers hands as a teenager so the ability to walk aimlessly around a supermarket, collecting goods for her calm home, was a sought of soothing heaven that nothing else could match.

She had entered the complex in that dream state. So removed from the day and all the painful torture those she loved most were inflicting upon her Charlotte wondered around the supermarket uninterrupted for nearly an hour. Her fingers traced across bright packets of food, all housing cereal, or biscuits, or anything else commonplace. She had been snapped to reality when an employee asked if she needed help and she had given a fleeting smile.

Milk.

She needed milk.

The young man pointed in an unsure direction and Charlotte nodded her head with a all too serene smile. She walked slowly down an empty aisle near the back of the shop and suddenly paused by a brightly coloured patch of shelving. Her eyes traced it carefully, absorbing exactly what her eyes were seeing to her core. It must have been a promotion of some sort as a sticker was slapped across every product in her view. A bright, happy picture with red font that read 'win a years worth of baby food!' and beneath was a happy family, smiling and laughing as a husband and wife fed their perfect baby puree. Charlotte stared at the copious, uncountable stacks of jars and twitched. It felt as though it was taunting her. As though the pain she had suffered had not been enough and she had earned the humiliation she was facing. It wasn't enough she'd lost her baby, no no. Thanks to Freddie Lounds now the world knew. And thanks to Karl now Margot would have one before her. The brightly coloured Jars lit and sparkled their joy and Charlotte unthinklhly pulled one down.

It didn't smash. It rolled away beneath a near by a shelf and away from her. She hesitated and within moments, thoughtless and aimless, she begun to knock them all down. Quicker and quicker, with growing anger and fanaticism she begun to tear apart the happy families and their happy baby. They fell, making loud noises, some shattering and some rolling away but it mattered nothing to Charlotte.

_It was unfair. It was unfair. It was unfair. It was unfair-_

A strangled gasp escaped her one a strong hand snatched her grip. At the contact it felt as though she was thrown back in to her own body. Breathless and shocked she turned a gaze to whomever had awoken her from her actions.

His maroon eyes bore to her and Charlotte felt any breath left in her lungs leave without trace.

Hannibal Lecter stood with a look of anger and worry pressed to his usually unreadable face.

"What are you doing Miss Claude?" he asked softly. She paused at such a question and glanced at her feet. The splattered puree and glass patterned the linoleum below and she felt a horrible rush of helplessness.

"I don't know," she said weakly. Hot tears pricked her eyes and she turned a helpless and hopeless gaze to him. She viewed Hannibal soften under her desperate gaze and he slowly turned and lead her from her mess. She followed unquestioningly, feeling a warmness run her when he pressed his large hand to her back.

He didn't question her. He simply took her away from the mess and to a near by cafe. It was unsophisticated and tacky and Charlotte found herself vaguely amused to see such a suave man as Hannibal Lecter somewhere as mall-of-America as 'koffee kick!'. He bought her a cup of tea and mixed three teaspoons of sugar in to it with the furness she had come to expect from him. He'd walked her in silence to his car, opened the door, and driven her away from the place without a single word being exchanged.

It was only when the two were on the lonely stretches of road that led Charlotte home did words come to her mouth once more.

"Margot's pregnant," she said, hearing her voice crack. Hannibal was silent in the face of her admission, considering such a point with the weight it deserved.

"It's Karl's," Charlotte finished, bringing the edge of her paper cup to her lips once more and gulping down her lukewarm tea.

"That must be truly painful for you," Hannibal finally answered. "I am very sorry Charlotte that this has happened."

"Thank you," she managed in a tiny voice. The silence stretched the whole way to her Wolf Trap home. She hadn't gotten out of the car till Hannibal opened the door. Her cup was empty and she crushed it in her grip as she walked slowly towards the house. The dogs barked and whined at the sound of her footsteps but her mind had run empty. It was only when Charlotte saw Will, standing in the doorway, with a look of utter worry pressed to his handsome features did she know what she felt.

She felt hurt.

And loss.

And grief.

And loneliness.

She felt them all for the first time since losing her child. She felt them raw and real and tangible. They clung to her and dampened her and made her bones break under the weight. She knew what she felt as she stood in front of her fiancé.

She felt like crying.

They came fast and thick down her cheeks and Will gave her a startled look to see her cry. He stepped forward and wrapped her close to him. His large hands stroked softly down her brunette hair and he whispered questions to her.

"What happened?" he soothed gently. "Charlotte what's wrong?"

She simply clung to his coat and wept. Any anger she had was gone now. She couldn't contain that under such a tidal wave of pain. It didn't pass. Will manoeuvred her inside and threw Hannibal a questioning look when he followed. Charlotte didn't want anything from him and she turned with a sniffle and suggested she take herself for a shower. She'd let the hot water burn her skin till red streaks ran down her. She'd let her absolve her of guilt.

And she let herself think of Hannibal.

He had been so kind and so knowing for her. She had been so surprised by her reaction, or her lack of reaction, that Charlotte the invincible for a fleeting moment had been scared of herself. He hadn't been. He'd cared for her and taken her home. He'd empathised and soothed her fear. As the hot water made her hair fan and stick to her skin and her long lashes grow heavy with droplets Charlotte considered that maybe, just maybe, Karl had been wrong about him.

She couldn't remember once her father ever showing such knowing for her. Her father had been rash and violent. He was a thin vale of politeness that held a monster. Hannibal Lecter seemed almost temper-less at times. She wasn't sure what it would do to shake him and that was comfort. If Karl had betrayed her so, if he had found the time in his short stay to impregnate her only true friend….

Charlotte realised with vivid clarity that he would not have had the time to truly see Hannibal. How could he be so distracted and brutish to her and also claim to know someone as near and dear as her Hannibal Lecter. If Will trusted him, if Jack trusted him… hell… if Alana Bloom trusted him _surely_ Charlotte could trust him. When she stepped form the shower she felt renewed and reborn. Cool clarity ran through her veins as Charlotte realised with a soft feeling of spiritual lightness that her Hannibal Lecter was not to be feared.

She'd wrapped her damp hair in a towel and her soft body in pyjamas as she ventured downstairs. Will watched her worriedly but she smiled so contently she felt she could melt. She sat between the two men, silently drinking a hot coco Hannibal had prepared for her, with a calmness she hadn't felt in a very long time.

From darkness had come light.

She knew, in her heart, that she could trust Hannibal Lecter. Implicitly.

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_I have a feeling that people find introspective chapters a little boring but i assure you this is necessary I think it is inevitable that Charolttte's suspicion would fall to Hannibal but how boring it would be if our heroine never wanted to speak to the charming doctor ever again. I assure you there should be some good action on the way. I would like to also thank EmilyCerise for such a touching and detailed review It honestly inspired me to find the time to finish this chapter so thank you very much! I will try to update regularly but unfortunately life keeps getting in the way. Thank you for your continued reading to anyone who bothers, I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. More soon. And once again, if there is anything you'd like to see, let me know and I will implement it as much as I can. I hope you feel this is as much your story as it is mine. _

_Much love Anya x _


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